Save All Your Kisses
by Bitter Recognition
Summary: Harry Potter was sick of it; of the media, of the pitying looks - he was stressed. So, he got a map, and trailed his finger across it with his eyes slammed shut. Wherever his finger landed, he would go - and, opening his eyes, he saw Lima, Ohio. A Muggle town... There was a certain thrill about going somewhere with no real plan. AU NPKHHP
1. Chapter 1

**Save All Your Kisses**

**Summary**: Harry Potter was sick of it; of the media, of the pitying looks - he was stressed. So, he got a map, and trailed his finger across it with his eyes slammed shut. Wherever his finger landed, he would go - and, opening his eyes, he saw Lima, Ohio. A Muggle town; what about his lack of education? He wasn't sure. He had to admit there was a certain thrill about going in with no real plan; and that's what he did.

**Pairings**: Kurt/Harry? I think? I love that couple (crossover OTP um) but I also love Puck/Harry and Puckurt help

**Author's note**: Completely disregards HBP/DH (well, most of it). Harry took care of Voldemort aged fourteen (I loathe the idea of Horcruxes so pretend he didn't have seven) and, with the help of Hermione, managed to pass his N.E.W.T.S early to take leave whenever he wanted.

Also - I only really watched the first season of Glee. I couldn't get into the second or third season (punk Quinn what) and from what I've heard of the _fourth_... Nada. Pulling some things out of my ass. And, saying that, this is probably around or just after Sectionals, because I have no concept of time. Apologising in advance if I get things wrong/mess up the timelines. Which I will. Awesome. c:

* * *

"Hermione... I have to go, okay? I can't stay here." Hermione clicked her tongue against the back of her teeth but nodded.

"Where are you going then, mate?" Ron asked, his eyes bright. Harry hoped he wouldn't cry - he wouldn't be able to stop himself from crying if Ron started to cry. "You got it all sorted?"

Harry shrugged. "Well, I'm sixteen, I don't know their stance on teenagers living alone and not going to school - I have a small house and car already bought, so all that's left is getting there and sorting out Muggle education. Public high school or private? Am I even allowed to drive?" he questioned, tapping his lip with his finger.

Hermione shook her head with an amused smile before pausing, mid-shake. "You can get a learners permit, I think?" He grimaced as her eyes brightened. "Muggle education, Harry?"

Harry grinned. "No idea what I'm going to do, I admit. Four or five years I've missed out on, but I was always bright when I put my mind to something, 'Mione."

* * *

The following morning, Harry packed away his entire home into his Hogwarts trunk and left, leaving the keys on the counter. He didn't looked back; he had very little here.

He was torn between Wizard travel and normal, Muggle travel and finally settled on Muggle travel. He'd never been on a plane before! It was exciting, something new. He even had to get two separate flights - one to America from Heathrow and then another to Ohio. _America_. The USA. He grinned in excitement. America!

"_Gate four, t__hree thirty flight, now boarding. Gate four now boarding._"

That was _him_. His flight. He stood up and took one last look at the airport, before bolting to the ticket check in. He wouldn't miss the bustling life of Muggle's going their own way, but there was something poignant about getting to America the hard way.

And, two hours later, he wished he'd gone with the international Port Key and Floo network, because he was sat next to a screaming kid and it's underage mother. He had nothing against babies having babies, but when they weren't even fussed about caring for the brats... It riled him up.

He tried to sleep. He tried, honestly. But the brat only got louder - and louder. His eye was twitching furiously. Hours later, when the flight finally landed, he was the first off the plane. He did the mandatory checks _(he thought they were quite futile as he was already in the country)_ and found his luggage, shooting away to the next flight. This one was considerably quicker.

Soon, _soon _he would be in bed, asleep, and his mind would sort out the jumbled mess of magic-aided Muggle studying he'd done, and then he'd wake up, register himself at William McKinley High School, the only public school close enough for him to want to attend, and then he'd buy himself a victory coffee. Or something. He needed sleep, first. Definitely sleep.

* * *

When Harry had somehow righted his jet-lag and fixed his internal alarm clock, he got out of bed at 16:09 and felt _great_. He showered, washed, smiled until his cheeks ached, and changed. Soon, dressed in snug black jeans and a dark green fluffy jumper, he stepped into dark dragon hide boots and was off to start his coffee binge. After confirming his admission to the public school.

He got into his car, a black Range Rover that cost more than he was willing to admit to Hermione, and he drove to the school while listening to a teen pop radio. The Headteacher, Figgins, was willing to let him do the core subjects and his chosen subjects with a clever use of magic that Harry would vehemently deny using, and Harry left the school with a wide smile on his face. He was immensely pleased that it was still early January and the students were off for two or three days yet, because rumour mills were rampant wherever he went.

He scoured the small town, trying to find a coffee place. He found small restaurants, one large one, and finally found a coffee place named "The Lima Bean". Harry snickered at the name for a while when trying to find a space.

Stopping the car was brilliant. It was beautiful car, it really was - it practically purred! The shut off was so smooth - he grabbed his wallet, filled with American notes that he really didn't understand due to magical currency, and bolted into the Lima Bean. Coffee! The smell hit his nose and he let out a content sigh, quietly ordering two triple espressos.

He took it to a table and began to watch the people of Lima. The majority of them gave him confused looks, wondering who he was, and a group of girls kept giggling and looking at him. He smiled awkwardly and flicked his hand in greeting, which made them giggle louder.

God, he hated teenage girls. And their screaming kids. He had a sip of one of the espressos and relaxed visibly as the coffee hit his senses. But by God did he love his coffee.

He continued watching as he sipped his drink. "Do you mind if I sit with you?" Harry choked on his mouthful of coffee and frantically swallowed, coughing. He looked up into amused eyes.

"Go ahead," Harry waved his hand at the other chair, staring at the other boy. He was well groomed, he gave him that. His hair was brown and combed neatly, falling just above his eye. Harry felt a little nervous about his own bird's nest, but carried on staring. He was incredibly pale, wearing clothing similar to Harry's but no doubt more expensive and in shades of navy blue and white instead. "Hi, I'm Harry; nice to meet you."

"Hello, Harry, I'm Kurt, Kurt Hummel. Nice to meet you too." The boy smiled prettily, his voice high.

"Hello Kurt, Kurt Hummel. Does that mean you want my last name, too?" Kurt coughed, a light flush taking over his face. "Potter. Harry Potter. Am I right to believe you're with those giggling teenage girls and you've been sent to break the ice to introduce us?"

Kurt coughed louder, his face reddening. Harry grinned, leaning back on his chair and finishing one coffee, moving on to the next. "I'll take that as a yes. Not interested - they're a bit too soft for me."

"Oh?" Kurt's face became painfully interested and the pair leaned forward again. "Do tell, Potter Harry Potter."

Harry gave him a warm, welcoming smile. "I prefer the company of men, Kurt Hummel. How old are you?"

"Sixteen, Harry. How old are you?" Kurt's face was incredibly red now; Harry gave himself a pat on the back. "And why did you move to Lima, Ohio?" His expression became concerned. "If you're homosexual, I'd keep it quiet. It's not the most accepting town." Kurt grimaced.

"Sixteen," Harry's voice was soft. "I ran my finger over a map and stopped on Ohio. And, I am, if you need any clarification," Kurt smiled victoriously. "Seriously? It's not the Middle Ages any more."

* * *

Kurt spent the morning lying in bed and wondering why he felt so _happy_. It was unusual for him, especially with the holiday over. It meant he had to go to school next Monday, which had the knock-on effect of being both bullied and battered every day. So why was he so happy? He checked his phone and clicked on the message from Mercedes.

_You still on for today? xx_

_Definitely_, he typed. _I need some retail therapy to get me through the horror of school on Monday. xx_

Mercedes sent him a kissy face that he didn't reply to, choosing to shower and moisturise instead. He dressed, deciding to be a little lacklustre and dull. White skinny jeans were a good way to start the day, he mused, and so was a warm navy blue sweater. He stepped into white studded boots and left with a jaunty wave to his dad.

His happiness wasn't short-lived, either - when he'd walked into the Lima Bean, there was cute guy with two drinks. _Two_? He wondered but didn't question it - he just steered Mercedes over to their friends and listened to them discuss the cute guy.

The guy had inky black hair that was so terribly bedraggled Kurt wanted to comb it into submission - but, at the same time, he found it strangely endearing. His eyes were a startling shade of green Kurt didn't think was humanly possible, shadowed by thin black glasses as they were. He was wearing a cute green sweater that Kurt _definitely_ approved of - "Kurt!"

"Um - what?" Kurt laughed, turning to face Mercedes. The girl looked a little annoyed, but she kept up a flirty smile as the cute guy looked and waved. Kurt turned to wave but the guy looked down to have a drink. "What's up?"

"Go over to him, and chat him up for us! Find out everything!" Tina burst out, surprisingly stutter-less. "Please?"

Kurt sighed. "Why do I have to go? Why can't you?" Kurt wasn't trying to sound like a chore - oh, it definitely _wasn't_ - but there was something so crass about ballsying up and introducing himself: and then having to explain his female friends would like his number.

"Just go, white boy," Mercedes laughed, pushing him slightly. "I don't think he saw you, any way."

Kurt pouted and strode over to the cute guy with his head held high. "Do you mind if I sit with you?" How _lame_. Kurt inwardly slapped himself but began to laugh as the cute guy began to choke on his drink.

The guy finally looked up and Kurt's breath was nearly taken away by those stunning eyes. "Go ahead," _British!_ Kurt wanted to scream his joy. Cute British guy with the cutest eyes he'd ever seen - _Gaga_ he hoped he was gay. "Hi, I'm Harry; nice to meet you."

Kurt beamed. "Hello, Harry, I'm Kurt. Kurt Hummel. Nice to meet you too." Kurt was in love. So, totally, in love. It was like he was in a good dream, or a ridiculous movie where people fell in love at first sight.

"Hello Kurt, Kurt Hummel. Does that mean you want my last name, too?" Kurt coughed, flushing slightly. He was on cloud nine and barely heard a word of what the British cute guy said, too distracted by the wedding they were _definitely_ going to have. "Potter. Harry Potter. Am I right to believe you're with those giggling teenage girls and you've been sent to break the ice to introduce us?" Kurt tried not to choke, glad he didn't have a drink on him. He was sure he was the shade of a tomato by now. "I'll take that as a yes. Not interested - they're a bit too soft for me."

"Oh?" Kurt wanted to dance and jump and scream to the world that he'd found the One. He leaned forward, ecstatic to notice that Harry did the same. "Do tell, Potter Harry Potter."

Harry gave him a warm, welcoming smile that made Kurt inwardly swoon. "I prefer the company of men, Kurt Hummel. How old are you?"

"Sixteen, Harry. How old are you?" Kurt's face was incredibly red now, he was sure. The way his name fell from Harry Potter's lips... "And why did you move to Lima, Ohio?" Worry welled in the pit of his stomach. "If you're homosexual, I'd keep it quiet. It's not the most accepting town." Kurt grimaced, thinking of the bruises he was no doubt to receive come Monday.

"Sixteen," Harry's voice was soft and smooth. "I ran my finger over a map and stopped on Ohio. And, I am, if you need any clarification," Kurt smiled in pleasure. "Seriously? It's not the Middle Ages any more."

"Try telling these Neanderthals," Kurt quipped, sighing. "You're coming to McKinley, right?"

Harry gave him a probing look, but his expression was soft and, curiously, pleased. "Yeah. Starting Monday. Will we be in the same year?" Kurt nodded his head. "Good - good. Are you homosexual, Kurt Hummel?"

Kurt burned red and nodded, his eyes caught on Harry's lips as he finished his second drink. "Would you like a drink, Kurt?" Harry asked politely and Kurt was _so_ tempted to say yes - but he shook his head and gestured to his now silent friends. "Hmph. Fine; but, to make up for it, you're showing me around McKinley High on Monday and after I'm going to buy you a coffee, darling."

Kurt felt like he'd died and gone to Heaven; a cute British guy named Harry Potter was asking to basically _stay with him_ at school and _then_ was going to buy him a coffee _and_ called him darling! "Uh - um, yeah! Sure!" His face was so red. "Okay! But - " Kurt stopped himself. Did he want to scare the only other openly gay guy in Lima with tales of the idiots at McKinley? "Actually, doesn't matter. I'll meet you there, Harry. Do you mind if I tell my friends about your sexuality?"

"Go ahead," Harry stood, beaming a cute lopsided smile, and ruffled his hair self-consciously. Kurt did the same, but instead of ruffling his hair he smoothed a piece down. Kurt took the time to appraise Harry's clothing and _knew_ it wasn't some kind of sick joke. Those jeans were a little too tight, that jumper a little to feminine on the other's lithe frame for Harry to be _completely _straight. Harry stretched, revealing stark white skin and a dark snail trail; Kurt was suddenly struck with the fact that he was _taller_ than Harry, despite Harry's apparent high-heeled boots and overpowering demeanour. He smiled again. "Good bye, Kurt, Kurt Hummel. Till Monday."

And if Kurt checked Harry's ass out when he walked away, he was only doing it to prove to himself that Harry was _openly_ and **obviously **gay and nothing to do with the fact that he may have fallen in love.

He practically strutted over to his friends, aware of the big grin on his face. "Gay, ladies. Totally and wholly gay. Coming to McKinley starting Monday, _with us no less_, and he is _openly gay_!"_  
_

Their groans of disappointment were drowned out by his glee.

* * *

Harry grinned to himself. He'd made a friend in Kurt Hummel, the openly gay kid of Lima, Ohio. Managed to come out at the same time, but he reckoned his clothing did that anyway. He pressed the open button on his car clicker and slid in, putting the key in the ignition and, checking his mirrors, he pulled out.

He couldn't wait until Monday. It was only two days away, but he was so damn excited. He couldn't wait! Was Muggle school different to Magical? He paused in his thoughts. _No saying Muggle. _Was it different? He couldn't remember a time when it _felt _different. There were still arse holes at both schools, one his cousin and the other Draco Malfoy, but in one he didn't have a murderous bastard after him. He grinned again, wider. No more Voldemort hunting him! He was an arse hole, too - it was fair to say he'd met his fair share of arse holes, and he was sure that non-magical ones would be no different from Dudley Dursley.

Hopefully.


	2. Chapter 2

**Save All Your Kisses**

**Summary**: Harry Potter was sick of it; of the media, of the pitying looks - he was stressed. So, he got a map, and trailed his finger across it with his eyes slammed shut. Wherever his finger landed, he would go - and, opening his eyes, he saw Lima, Ohio. A Muggle town; what about his lack of education? He wasn't sure. He had to admit there was a certain thrill about going in with no real plan; and that's what he did.

**AN**: Harry's Hogwarts education/the war will be explained in either the next chapter or the following one.

* * *

Monday came, bright and early, and Harry was beaming when he was making his toast, eating his toast, brushing his teeth, brushing his hair, dressing - he was so damn happy, and he didn't know why. Well, he did know why, actually. He had made an attractive, _homosexual_ friend; there was no hiding in the closet for him. There was no need.

He left quickly, throwing his bag over his shoulder and grabbing a white jacket from the bottom of the stairs. He'd finally managed to unpack everything and now he was content.

He sped to school, aware it probably wasn't great to be speeding, but when he arrived at the school with no complaints, he wasn't too fussed. Getting out of the car and locking it, he turned. Nearly every eye was on him. He gulped, wondering what he'd done to attract such attention, but he walked with swinging hips anyway. Hopefully it was just his appearance that threw people off. Incredibly tight grey jeans tucked into black Doc Martens and a lighter grey shirt wasn't too adventurous, sure, but his jacket was white and very bright - he screamed wealth. _Car didn't help_, he mused. _Good car though._

"Potter Harry Potter!" Harry turned at the sound of his name and he beamed, almost running across the car park to Kurt Hummel. The boy was dressed much like Harry, although a tad more flamboyant with a lovely dark scarf and changing his bland colours for brighter ones.

"Kurt, Kurt Hummel, darling!" His voice echoed across the car park. Silence. Utter silence. _Homophobic people alert_. Harry cackled to himself. "Oh, Kurt, Kurt Hummel, darling, I missed you. Come, come. I need to find the receptionist, Kurt, Kurt Hummel, and you are my only hope."

Kurt laughed, too, joining in on the theatrics and ignoring the whispers of consequence in the back of his mind. It was one thing being openly gay, but flaunting it was terrible. "Come, Potter Harry Potter, I will show you the way!"

Harry snickered to himself as he was dragged by the taller boy. School bullies had nothing on Lord Voldemort, right? "What do you have first, Kurt? Would you be okay with showing me around a little?"

"I have English." Kurt replied, finally slowing. "And, sure. Tell me about yourself, Harry."

"What do you want to know?" Harry worried his lips. He wasn't up-to-date with Muggles at all.

"Favourite colour, musician, music genre... Those kinds of things." Kurt watched him from the corner of his eye, aware of the students milling around them but oddly concerned for the other boy.

"Um - favourite colour. Hm. Silver, I guess. A mercury type colour. Musician... Pink, I guess. She's the only person I've really listened to. Genre... I don't know. None of that screamo, stuff, though. Some is pretty damn awesome, but when I don't know what they're saying because they're screaming and growling... Hell no. What about you?"

Kurt smiled wickedly. "We're here, Potter Harry Potter. Go get your timetable and I'll escort you to your lesson." Harry nodded, leaving and returning a minute later. "What do you have?"

Harry pursed his lips. "English with... Somebody named Coleman?" He tilted the timetable, hoping the paper would be more conclusive with a room number, but no such thing appeared.

"Great!" Kurt chirped, taking the boys arm and pulling him out of the office. "You're with me! Now, Mrs. Coleman isn't a great teacher, so we can chat and compare timetables and I can introduce you to the idiots in my class."

Was he too happy? Harry couldn't decide, gazing up at the other boy. "Don't you have any friends in your English?"

"Nope," Kurt popped the 'p'. "It's why I'm glad you're with me, actually."

Harry said nothing more, trying to map the hallways mentally. He muffled his shriek when Kurt suddenly pulled him into a room and led him to the back. "Sit there," Kurt pointed to the very corner of the room. "Hopefully others will come in before the idiots get here. I'm their main target."

_Main target?_ "What do they do?" Harry dreaded to think.

"Oh, mostly just notes, death threats..." Kurt was so painfully nonchalant that it tugged at something in Harry's chest.

"Death threats?" Kurt didn't seem willing to disclose any more, but the conversation ended with the arrival of other pupils that stared as they sat down. Harry shifted around on the chair until he was partially hidden by Kurt, who gave him an indescribable look. "I don't like it when people stare at me." Harry expanded, although he didn't feel like he had to. "Subtlety isn't commonly found among your peers, it seems."

Kurt giggled quietly, stiffening when several people in red and white letterman jackets entered the classroom. There were immediate catcalls and Harry kept hearing the words "fag" "Hummel" "new kid" used in rapid conversations.

"Why're they calling me a cigarette?" Harry asked Kurt, his nose wrinkled.

Kurt giggled again. "It's a derogatory term for a homosexual, like faggot." Understanding dawned in Harry's eyes. "And they're not calling you it. They're calling _me_ it."

Harry didn't know how to reply. He blinked before turning his attention to the teacher.

Kurt pouted, expecting a reply to that, and quickly found a piece of paper and a pen. _I don't think I should walk you to your next lesson. They'll probably try something with me. _He pushed it over and Harry scanned it, pursing his lips. He quickly found a pen - a peculiar fountain pen shaped like a feather that required an inkwell - and jotted a reply.

_If they try something with you, they try something with me, Kurt, Kurt Hummel. _Kurt grinned. "I wouldn't recommend it, but thank you." he whispered.

Kurt wrote down a question that was plaguing him; _Why have you started later in the year?_

_My old school didn't want me to go, so I had to sit extra exams; massive ball-ache, I tell you. Why aren't we listening to the teacher?_

Kurt stifled a laugh. _She's the worst teacher I've ever had, that's why. If you're struggling just ask me for help. Can you sing?_

_Definitely can't sing, no. Why? I sound like a cat in heat._

Kurt had to stifle another laugh, biting his tongue. _I was just wondering if you'd like to join Glee Club. Please try out! All of my friends are in it._

_A club for being happy? And I have to sing? _Harry gazed at the other boy dubiously.

_No! It's basically a group of people who sing together... A singing club._

_I guess I'll try, but I still sound like a yowling cat in a cat gang bang._

Kurt couldn't stifle this laugh and it rang out across the classroom, nearly silencing it. Harry laughed next to him, still trying to hide behind the taller boy.

"So... Comparing timetables?" Harry asked, sliding his own over to Kurt. Kurt fished out his own and lay them side by side. They both had World History next, with a teacher named Jones. After that, Harry was on his own until fifth, where he was reunited with the other boy for the last three periods. "Shit." Harry laughed, putting his head down. "I was hoping we'd be together forever so I didn't have to socialise."

Kurt's wistful smile wasn't lost on Harry, but he didn't comment on it and pretended to search the rest of the timetables. "Hey, we actually have a tonne of lessons together," Harry muttered, surprised. He opened his bag and found a blue pen, circling the lessons they had together. "Aw, that makes me happy, now. I was worried we'd have none together and we couldn't be friends or something."

A wicked sound echoed across the school, buzzing loudly. "Merlin!" Harry exclaimed, pressing his hands over his ears. "What the hell is that?"

Kurt lifted one mocking eyebrow. "The bell. Come, come, Harry Potter. You'll _love_ World History. I have friends in there. It's easy, too, you don't have to try. I was meant to take it at A-P but I decided against it."

Harry stood, packing away his things, and swung his arm into Kurt's. The taller boy stumbled slightly, but Harry began to drag them out of the room with a curly-hair toss and a swing of his hips. If Kurt noticed the way Harry tripped the people in Letterman jackets the moment they stepped too close, he didn't comment on it; or even the way that Harry held onto his arm with such a strong grip so that he wasn't shoved into lockers.

"So... World History?" Harry turned big eyes up and Kurt smiled widely, pushing Harry through an open door way. "You're so aggressive!" Harry complained, staring at some of his new class; they stared back in an array of annoyance, disgust and amusement. "Where do you sit?"

Kurt grinned, pushing him down in an empty seat and sitting at the table in front. "I have frie - "

"Friends in this class, I get it." Harry smiled, removing a binder from his bag and a pen. "Here's hoping news reports work for me."

This classroom filled up quicker than Harry expected, considering they had nearly ran to here. Mr. Jones was a tall man with lank blond hair - his greasy hair reminded him painfully of Professor Snape, the estranged war hero. Nobody knew where he was, and Harry wanted to find him desperately. He had questions and he wanted them answered.

"Sorry I'm late, Mr. Jones!" Harry's dwelling was broken by this... loutish thing. The person who had spoken had - first of all - a Mohawk. Harry pursed his lips and shook his head. _Not liking that._ He carried on assessing him; Letterman jacket, body looking like it was pumped up on steroids, broad shoulders and dark eyes. Harry's type, but he also appeared to be straight. _Shit_.

"Right. Well - sit next to the new kid," Harry bristled at being called the 'new kid'. "Detention after school tomorrow, Puck."

"Whose the new kid?" Dark brown eyes scrutinised the entire classroom and finally landed on Harry's glowering face, aimed at Mr. Jones. "Ah, all right."

He swanned over like he owned the school and anger bubbled in Harry's chest - _God_ he thought he'd left people like that in England!

"You got a name, new kid?" Mr. Brown Eyes gave him a once-over and nodded, swinging his bag to the floor and dropping heavily on the only other available stool.

"It's common courtesy to give your own name first," Harry pouted, looking to the front of the room as the Snape-look-alike began to teach.

"Noah Puckerman," was the simply reply. "Name, new kid. Waiting."

Harry smiled, despite himself. "Harry Potter."

"Nice to meet you, Harry Potter. Call me Puck." _Puck_ turned in his seat to face him; Harry was aware of Kurt's shocked face but paid no heed. "From that accent, you're English. Why'd you move to Lima?"

Harry rose an eyebrow. "Okay, Puck. I moved to Lima because I trailed my finger on a map with my eyes closed and landed here. Good a place as any to come to, right?"

"No," Puck laughed loudly, throwing his head back in his mirth. "Pretty shit place, actually. You must have been in a shit place to come here, huh? Why a finger on the map? That's pretty strange, bro."

Harry smiled, despite his urge to defend Hogwarts. "Shite place, yeah." His eyes glimmered in amusement. "Boarding school in Scotland," he expanded when Puck leaned forward slightly in interest. "But I lived in Surrey when school was out. As for the map thing... It's the way I've always done things." He shrugged.

"So - was there like, baby-booms? Or was it all-male or something?" Kurt looked incredibly shocked now, and had turned around to listen in.

"Mixed sex, but no baby-boom. Never any babies, actually... That I was aware of." _Never any babies... I wonder why? _Harry bit his lip in confusion. "Any baby-boom here?" He asked, slightly jokingly. Kurt grimaced at the thought and turned around, Puck nudging Harry in the ribs and nodding at Mr. Jones.

"_If _you're all quite done..." Mr. Jones gave them a pointed look and Harry was temped to stick his tongue out at the man, choosing instead to cross his arms and smile innocently.

The lesson passed quickly, with Puck's witty remarks and Harry's head being filled with the mindless gossip of McKinley High.

By the lesson end, Harry and Puck had built up a hesitant friendship, "What do you have next?" Harry asked, looking at his timetable. "I have History with... Smith? Why don't they tell me room numbers or names?"

"You're with me!" Puck chirped, swinging his bag over his shoulder. "Come on, Harry!"

Harry gave Kurt a cheeky grin and waved goodbye, following the much-taller and larger boy to his next lesson. He soon became aware of people giving them wide berth and there was a lot of staring going on, but he didn't know if it was at him or Puck. He didn't question it, especially since Puck seemed like a good guy to have around.

* * *

Harry was nervously waiting outside of his locker, trying to find either Kurt's neat hairstyle or Puck's messy one, when he felt a stirring in his magic, tugging him towards... Somewhere. He was painfully lost. But, he sighed, and trudged along, trusting his magic. It led him to another set of lockers, but he saw the groomed hairstyle and practically bounded over to him. "Kurt!" he sang, stopping to the left of him.

Kurt gave him a small smile but it didn't reach his eyes. Harry frowned; "What's up?"

"Nothing, Harry," Kurt sighed, slamming his locked shut and taking Harry's arm in his own. "Just an idiot or... many."

"Oooh, sounds juicy. Can I do anything?" Harry grinned, ruffling his hair to cover his forehead. Kurt finally laughed as Harry began to rock on his heels and stare at him with wide, emerald green eyes.

"Unless you can find a way to push them in front of a US tank..." Kurt admitted dully, his blue-green eyes shadowed. "They're such... _bastards_! I hate swearing, I really do, but I can't find a word to describe them!"

"Who is it? I'll prank them." A terrifying grin blossomed on Harry's face. "Ooh, which one is it, Kurt?"

"All of them," Kurt whispered as a boy with an afro stepped close to them and then turned away from Harry's sharp glare. "I'll point them out in the cafeteria."

Harry's grin became a little more malicious when they entered the cafeteria and saw the Slush Puppy machine. "I want a raspberry one!" Harry gasped, dragging Kurt over. He was acutely aware of the 'jocks' sat on a table right next to the machine and Kurt's frantic shaking of his head, but he grabbed two large cups and began to fill them up. "I was never allowed Slush Puppies when I was younger," Harry pouted, sticking two straws into each drink. "I - What are you laughing at? Do you want one?"

Kurt giggled loudly. "Sl - Slush Puppies? Really? We just call them slushies. No, I don't, but thank you."

"Personally I think slushie is a _terrible_ name! Slush Puppy appeals to everyone! Slushie is so drab and dull..." Harry exclaimed, twisting the nozzles up so that the machine stopped. He picked the two up and sauntered off, Kurt following closely behind. "Where do we sit, dearest?"

Kurt flushed at the pet name, much like how he did all those _other_ times Harry referred to him affectionately, and dragged him over to a table filled with other people. "Hey, guys," Kurt nervously greeted. "This is Harry."

There were a chorus of greetings before there was a mad shuffle, trying to make room for the two boys to sit. They ended up pushed together, with Puck on Harry's other side. Harry sipped his slushie, placing the other on the table, watching. Waiting.

"Why do you have two slushies?" A nervous looking boy asked, with a dopey expression on his face. "You better not slushie someone - "

"Kurt?" Harry eye-smiled when the dopey boy began to splutter at being cut off. "What does 'slushie' mean?"

Kurt slapped his hand on his head. "It's - um, where you throw the drink on someone else. Happens a lot to me."

Harry nodded sagely. "Kurt?" Kurt gulped. "Why would they slushie you?"

"I'm not very popular around here, Harry." Kurt put his chin on his hands. "Homosexual, with an IQ larger than my shoe size and not ashamed to tell them about it."

Harry snickered. "I'll protect you, Kurt. Pranking arseholes is my speciality," He wiggled his eyebrows and Kurt huffed a laugh. "Introductions! Hi. I'm Harry Potter."

The people around the table began to introduce themselves, one girl in particular making him laugh. "No, he's _not_ my cousin..."

"Well, it's lovely to meet you all. I guess you're all in that happy club Kurt talks about?"

"Glee," Kurt hastened to correct him. "Yes, they are. A couple are missing - namely Rachel, Santana, Quinn and Brittany," He sniffed disdainfully. "But this is the majority of Glee."

"Will you be joining?" Puck asked, finally speaking. Harry noticed a couple of the Glee kids shuffle and look away from Puck, making Harry terribly curious. "You may as well - you're homosexual and short, so..."

Harry snickered while Kurt bristled behind him, muttering something about bigotry and ignorance. "Definitely not. Can't sing, can't dance, can't act. I can cook, though - bake, too. Hell, if you have a running team or something, I can do that! Used to get a lot of practice running back home." Harry snickered again, louder this time. "Apparently a lot will be done here," Harry gazed around the cafeteria, eyeing people he found to be a problem and resigning himself to a shitty year. "Running is fun."

Puck chortled, leering. "I can definitely tell you're a runner, pretty boy - " Harry smirked inwardly, shifting closer to the other boy and putting his hand on his thigh.

"You think I'm pretty?" Harry threw back, making his eyes go impossibly wide behind his glasses. "Really really?"

Puck shifted uncomfortably. "W - what? Can I carry on my insult? Nobody interrupts Puckzilla - "

"Puckzilla?" Harry giggled, stammering on the name. "P - _Zilla?_" Puck stuck his lower lip out in a pout and Harry pulled it on reflex. "Don't pout. Babies pout. You're not a baby, are you, Puck?"

Kurt watched with the same expression he wore in World History - a mixture of disgust, jealousy and shock. Harry shrugged internally - in for a penny, in for a pound! He trailed his hand higher on the larger boys lap until Puck shot out of his seat. "I can already tell you're going to be a problem, Potter," Puck laughed awkwardly. "But I'm not gay, okay?"

"We'll see," Harry purred, taking another sip of his slushie. "We'll see, Puckerman."

"It's no good crushing on a straight boy, Harry," Kurt whispered into his ear while Puck sat back down, leaning slightly away from Harry. "Trust me."

Harry turned his head to whisper, "Are you sure he's straight?"

"Does anything that walks," Kurt muttered. "But never any boys."

"That sucks." Harry pouted, putting his head on Kurt's shoulder. "Oh - sorry if you have personal space issues or anything, but I thrive on touch. If you don't want me to pin you down and cuddle you to death, you'll let me be affectionate."

Kurt blushed, staring at the Glee club in slight mortification, slight pleasure. Mercedes in particular looked put-out; the rest seemed confused by the relationship between the new kid and Kurt. Was it pre-existing? "How about a compromise?"

Harry pulled away, looking up with wide eyes. "Listening."

"You can cuddle, touch, pin me down _if_ you let me style your hair for you in the morning. Every morning." Kurt smirked victoriously, ruffling the bedraggled hair. "For as long as you or I attends McKinley."

"That seems like a wank deal," Harry scrunched his nose up, before a mischievous twinkle appeared in his eyes. "Deal. _But_ you also have to help me get recon on some of the people who bully you, all right? I know you have a manipulative mind - all the best people do."

"Only if you join Glee," Kurt's expression was far too smug for Harry's liking - the Glee club watched them like a ping-pong match. "Now, I know you say you aren't great -

"Yowling cat gang bang while simultaneously giving birth to kittens." Harry muttered petulantly. There were startled laughs around them.

"_But_ I'm a competent teacher and I bet - **bet** I can get you singing well enough to join Glee." Kurt finished smugly. "If you refuse this, you can't cuddle, I won't do 'recon' - all or nothing."

"You haven't even heard me sing!" Harry said, aghast. "I could be tone deaf!" Kurt continued smiling. "Fine. I accept your - _terms_." Harry grinned widely and went back to cuddling the taller boy. "We're still having coffee later, right?"

Kurt smiled fondly. "Yes, we are. Are we going straight after school or...?"

"Wait an hour or so? So there's less people?" Kurt nodded just as the bell rang.

Harry grabbed his bag and threw it over his shoulder. "Where does 'King' teach? A. P. Chemistry..." Kurt took the boy's arm and began to drag him away, a torrent of slushie where Harry once stood and an angry shout from Puck. "Oh - shit a brick!" Harry laughed. "Thanks, Kurt."

"No problem, Harry." Kurt turned to smile brilliantly, his previously stormy eyes bright with an emotion Harry couldn't identify. "Now - warning about Mister King. He's very strict so don't annoy him. He's only been here six months and he's already on Coach Sylvester's hit list!"

Harry nodded. "Who's Coach Sylvester?" he asked politely.

Kurt gave him a mysterious wink and pushed him through an open door, sending the boy stumbling into a man swathed in black. "Potter!" the man barked and Harry snapped to attention before he realised what he was doing. He stared up at a man he thought dead - or at least MIA - and gulped. Kurt laughed loudly and ran away.

Cold black eyes stared back, pale lips drawn in an angry sneer, and a large hooked nose sealed the deal. "Professor Snape?" Harry whispered, taking in the pulled back black hair and the sharp suit. "But - _what?_"

The man's face cracked into a tiny smile and he patted the stunned boy on the shoulder twice in greeting. "Hello, Potter. Come, sit. I know you won't be like the insufferable brats I normally teach. Oh, this is wonderful."

Severus Snape - _Severus Snape!_ - pushed him down into a soft chair, with an obvious cushioning charm placed on it. With a nonchalant wave of his hand, the door Harry fell through slammed closed. "I must admit, Potter, you're a breath of fresh air in this... Hole. When I first felt your tumultuous magic I was... Well, it was disconcerting. I initially thought others would follow you, but apparently not." The man paused, taking in Harry's pale face. "Somebody will be following you here, yes?"

"Um - maybe Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley?" Harry muttered dumbly. "Sir... Have you been here all this time?"

Severus sighed, speaking slowly as if Harry was a child. "Yes, Potter. Nobody came. Owls, Muggle mail, every available method I had at my disposal... And now you." The man's usually harsh eyes lit up in ill-concealed glee. Harry twitched.

"I can get you in contact with the Wizarding World, sir, but I wouldn't recommend it. Everything's gone tits up."

Severus Snape nodded knowledgeably. "Call me Mister King, Potter. I'm going to start the lesson now."

Harry knew, from the way Snape's eyes appraised him, that he had been stuck with no Wizarding source for over a year. He must have thought that Harry was his helper - but a question plagued him.

_Why had nobody responded to Snape's pleas?_ "Potter?" Snape blinked, staring down at the boy. "Stop dwelling in fantasies and answer the question on the board."

Harry glowered up at the man, the tiniest hints of a smile playing on his lips. "I don't know, sir."

"Did you not to think to open a book before you came here, boy?" Snape barked. Harry's smile grew slightly and the man noticed it too, because he suddenly stopped and twirled on a girl with long brown hair and wide brown eyes to cover his own smirk.

"Cease waving your arm like a baboon at _once_, Berry!" Snape turned back to Harry and his tone softened slightly. "This is basic Chemistry, Potter. Try and think."

Harry squinted - and squinted, and squinted. "Is there something wrong with your eyes, Potter?" Snape snapped, awkward laughter popping up around the room.

"No, there's something wrong with your isotope." Harry snapped back, wanting to bite his tongue but at the same time wanting to press his former Potions professor. "Is there something wrong with your eyes, sir?" Harry mocked, his eyes glinting devilishly.

To his surprise, Snape threw his head back and began to laugh. "Well done, Potter. That was the question," Harry flushed and opened his mouth to retort, but he was distracted by Snape saying, "Just like your mother."

"You knew his mother?" Berry burst out - Harry turned and gave her a scathing look that silenced her instantly. "I was just asking..."

"Keep your mouth shut," Harry and Snape hissed - Snape added a smooth "Berry," on the end.

The girl recoiled.

The lesson passed in a similar manner - scathing banter between Snape and Harry with odd comments that made Harry's head whirl. By the end of the lesson, the boy was tempted to invite the man to his house to leave the Muggle world for good - but he sooner bolted out of the lesson as the thought caught up to him and nearly ran to his fifth lesson.

Kurt met him half way - well, Harry barrelled into him for fear of actually inviting Professor Snape into his new home - and they awkwardly stumbled and righted themselves. "Hi!" Harry beamed, looking behind him nervously. _No sign of him_. Harry'd ask tomorrow - after he'd drank his weight in Firewhiskey. _Snape was alive and well, living in Lima, Ohio. _He felt delirious at the thought.

"Hello!" Kurt beamed back, smiling wryly. "We have Dodgeball, come on." Harry began to follow the older boy, shoving him to right and ducking when a flood of blue landed where Kurt once stood. Harry subtly slammed his booted foot into the assailants leg and sent them sprawling to the floor, covering them in blue slushie.

"Watch where you're going, arsehole!" Harry yelled, smirking victoriously as people began to laugh. He sauntered after the taller boy. "Dodgeball, then?"

"It's kind of in the name." Kurt pursed his lips and slammed Harry into some lockers, pressing himself tight on the other boy. Harry blushed brightly, hoping Kurt wouldn't see it. Brown slushie hit the floor. "I swear this is some kind of joke," Kurt rolled his eyes and carried on walking, Harry following behind in bemusement. "I won't be doing it. He'll make us do it in our normal clothing and I refuse to let myself be hit looking like this." Glinting glasz eyes definitely noticed the blush, but Kurt pretended not to notice.

"I'm definitely in," Harry practically sparkled. "I love dodging things! So I guess if I get hit, I'm out? What about if I catch the ball? Can I kick the ball?"

"In that jacket?" Kurt looked him up and down. "I wouldn't recommend it. I'll look after it, if you want? And - yeah. Don't get hit. Only throw the ball with both feet on the ground - if you catch the opposing players ball, they're out. As for kicking... I don't think so. Just throwing. Face shots are allowed."

"Awesome." Harry's smile became sinister. "I've got a mean throw as well."

And, as Harry twirled and danced around the bright red balls until he was the only one on his team standing, versus several 'jocks' in Letterman jackets, Kurt felt marginally sick to his stomach. _Strength in numbers_. However, Kurt was incredibly shocked when, instead of going straight down from the very first grouped attack, the boy leapt out of the way in a one-handed cartwheel. The other team was obviously shocked - Harry managed to take three out before he was on the defensive again, doing ridiculous flips and twists that made Kurt's heart pound in concern. He could hear Puck and Finn roaring encouragements at the inky haired boy and, throwing caution to the wind, Kurt roared, "Come _on_ Potter!"

Harry's flushed and beaming face back at him made a funny tingle swell in his stomach, despite his horror when Harry dropped to the floor and sprung out of the way of four balls at once, leaping to his feet and, grabbing one ball, chucking across the gym and taking another jock out.

Harry grabbed another ball with one hand and thrust it into another ball, catching one aimed at his midriff and tossing the two at the biggest remaining jock. Harry gave the last remaining boy a wide, toothy grin, flicking his hair from his face and picking up a red ball. The other boy grinned and held his hands up in surrender, accepting the defeat and taking the ball courteously.

Kurt shot down to him, both bags thrown over his shoulder and jacket carefully in arms, eyes wide and lips in a curving smile. "How - how did you do that? You were outnumbered at seven to one! That was _brilliant_!" Puck joined them, clapping Harry sharply on the shoulder. Finn lumbered over - Harry noticed Kurt stiffen and flush slightly when the tall boy got too close. _Unrequited,_ his mind immediately sang, "_No good crushing on a straight man._" _Interesting._

"I'm awesome like that," Harry shrugged like it was nothing - Kurt gaped while Puck chortled. Finn looked on with a confused expression - Harry assumed it was his default, because he had the same expression in the cafeteria.

"You're a little badass, aren't you?" Puck threw one heavy arm over Harry's shoulders. "We're going to be great friends, bro."

"Well done, Potter!" Harry nearly shrieked at the sight of a clapping Snape at the opening of the gym, and was ready to bolt. "However, we have something to discuss. Come with me."

"I can't now, sir, because Kurt and I - " Harry pointed at an innocent looking Kurt. "Have to talk about our evening plans. Good day, sir." Harry shrugged Puck's arm from his shoulder and managed to grab Kurt before there was a strong grip on his elbow, leaving him incapable of moving. "I didn't even see you move!" Harry shrieked, jumping and looking up at a smug Snape. "I'm serious, sir, we have plans. Serious plans. Life or death plans."

"Oh, really?" Snape rose one condescending eyebrow. Harry flushed. "More so than reunited Godson-Godfather plans?"

"That's bullshit and you know it! Draco can wait!" Harry growled, itching to hex the man seven shades of puce. "Now, kindly remove your hand from my person before I get you in trouble for inappropriate touching."

Snape's composure broke and he began to chortle. "I don't mean Draco, Potter. Lily made me your Godfather when you were born - didn't you know?" Snape carried on smugly as Harry gasped in horror. "On the subject of Godfathers, how's the mutt?"

"Sirius is fine," Harry rolled his eyes. "Clinically insane and battling starvation, but I guess he's fine." Using Snape's momentary shock, he pulled Kurt away and out of the gym. "No way is he my godfather!" Harry spat in anger. "I'd know!"

Kurt pursed his lips. "I don't know Harry - he did seem to care about you." When Harry's face became pinched and drawn, Kurt realised he'd said the wrong thing.

"That _man_ will never care about anyone except himself." Harry snarled. "You don't know him. He's a _cunt_." Kurt lowered his eyes and shrugged, turning right sharply and leaving Harry running to catch up. "He was my teacher at my old school," Harry offered when it was clear Kurt disapproved of something he'd said. "He was a massive bully that seriously put me off learning Chemistry. It was my first lesson with him and he made me so upset I cried myself to sleep. He doesn't care about me, Kurt. The most he cares about is my mother."

Kurt nodded stiffly. "Next time, don't use me as an excuse to get away from someone."

"You're upset about _that_?" Harry laughed, hard anger seeping into his eyes. "I'm sorry, Kurt. There won't _be_ a next time."

They entered the classroom in subdued silence; Kurt was pacified by Harry's response, not reading into the cryptic wording, while Harry's anger and magic was growing and bulging until he could barely sit down.

They sat next to each other, two girls in red uniforms sitting behind them and giggling. "Hello, Lady Hummel," one of them greeted. Harry tried to reign in his magic, digging his fingernails into his palms and drawing sluggish blood. "Introduce us to your new _friend._"

Kurt sighed. "Harry Potter, Santana Lopez. Santana Lopez, Harry Potter. Harry Potter, Brittany Pierce. Brittany Pierce, Harry Potter. There. Happy?" Kurt sniped.

The blonde girl's eyes widened. Her eyes flicked up to his forehead, trying to find the lightning bolt scar through his hair; when she couldn't find it, she sat back and pouted. "I thought you were a wizard," she explained to a confused Harry. "Lord Tubbington talks about a wizard named Harry Potter with a lightning bolt scar..."

"Your cat?" Kurt huffed a laugh.

"I think it'd be cool to be a wizard," Harry smiled awkwardly, cursing inwardly. "But I'm not a wizard. Nice to meet you two."

Santana Lopez laughed meanly. "Enough of this love fest; are you a homo?"

"_E-hem._"

Harry turned around, barely paying attention to the lesson. "Are we still getting coffee?" he asked, wondering if it was such a good idea after all. He had been at risk of losing his temper with the other boy - something that he didn't want. Would it be better for him to sleep it off?

"Sure." Kurt replied, sounding incredibly disinterested and frustrating Harry further. "I'll meet you there at five."

By the end of the day, Harry was ready to tear his hair out. Gone was the open, responsive boy he'd met; in his place was an utter _bitch_. He was trading vicious words with Santana - who Harry was fond of, surprisingly - and giving Brittany amused, mean looks when he thought nobody was looking. _There had to be a past here._ It was the only reasonable explanation; did he try to find out what?

He blinked when he saw a group of people in red jackets standing in the middle of the car park. Kurt took his hand and squeezed it; they noticed him and stormed over, all of them with slushies in their hands.

"You little _fag_." The one speaking was tall, with a large head and large stature. Harry smirked when he realised they weren't there for Kurt, straightening himself up. "Because of you, coach had us work harder in Hockey!"

Harry rose one sculpted eyebrow. "Who are you, again?" Santana snickered to the side of him, taking his other hand and appearing seemingly out of nowhere. "Wait - don't answer that. I suggest you drop your drinks, boys, before I snap your fucking arms." Harry spat, bristling. He shoved Kurt and Santana away when he felt the first boy move, barely hearing the pair of them cry out - he ducked and latched onto the arm holding the cup, twisting - he kept twisting and twisting until the boy was on the floor, groaning in pain. "So, let me guess: you need your arms to play Hockey, right? So what would _you_," He directed the question to the other Hockey players, aware that the boy he was hurting seemed to be the ringleader. "Do if I snapped both of his arms?" He grabbed the other arm and twisted it up and around, placing his boot on the boy's back to press down. The boy let out a loud bark of pain, Harry pressing down harder until it was a constant stream of profanities. "If you _don't_ want me to dislocate his shoulders and break his arms at the joints, you'll drop your drinks and _fuck off._ You have until the count of three."

They looked at him dubiously, Harry smiling nastily and applying more pressure. "One." They didn't react; Harry pressed down harder until the boys face was on the ground and he was yelping in agony. "Two." Harry began to slowly - _slowly_ pull the strained arms back.

"Drop the cups!" the boy Harry was currently tormenting yelled. "Now!"

The sound of cups hitting the floor was music to Harry's ears. "Now, unfortunately boys, you haven't _fucked off_."

They ran. "Try that shit again, boy," Harry spat, hauling the much larger boy to his feet. "And I will go through with it. Understand?" He dropped his arms and tapped the boy on the face. "Oh - and," He back-handed the boy, sending him sprawling onto his bonnet. "_That_ is for pissing me off when I'm in a bad mood already. Go, shoo."

"Potter!" Harry grit his teeth, turning to face his fuming Potions Professor. Santana and Brittany were practically yelling their joy at him, while Kurt was flush but his mouth was in wide smile. "I - never before - are you - what was that?!"

Harry grinned charmingly, shaking his hand out and rubbing the reddened skin. "He's a bully, sir. Don't tell me you wouldn't do the same had you had the chance." He widened his eyes for effect.

The man lowered his head in grudging respect. "I'll make sure nobody finds out about you slapping Karofsky, Potter - next time, punch him in the nose. Well, the teachers won't know. You'll be the talk of the school tomorrow. I don't _think_ he'll say anything, but I won't defend you if he does. Oh, and; detention tomorrow lunchtime." The man nodded to the group and span on his heel, striding away.

"That was _brilliant_!" Santana cooed, dragging the boy close to her and smothering him with a hug. "The way you handled him! Oh, Lady Hummel, didn't you just _jizz_?"

Harry coughed, a brilliant red blooming on his ears but thankfully not spreading for his face. Kurt replied, slightly breathless, "While such plebeian displays of aggression are below me... That was amazing!"

"Plebeian?" Santana and Harry echoed, looking at each other in bemusement. "I thought it was epic," Santana pouted, fluttering dark lashes at Kurt. Harry copied her to a T, with wide emerald eyes and his lower lip wobbling.

"I thought so too," Harry continued, wrapping his arms around the girl's waist. "It seems such _plebeian_ acts are lost on the cultured these days." Harry sniffed disdainfully, making Santana cackle in laughter. Kurt shifted, clearly unsure but still amused.

"Are you sure you aren't related?" Kurt and Brittany replied, shifting closer together.

Harry looked down slightly and began scrutinising the girl. "Well, you certainly have the luscious dark hair and you're the right height... Tell me, are you related to anyone by the name of Potter, Black, Peverell? While it's improbable that we are, in fact, related, I always look after my own."

The girl cooed in reply, smoothing back a loose curl that fell in front of his eye. "I'll check for you, sweetie. See you tomorrow, yeah?"

* * *

Coffee with Kurt was... Interesting. It was obvious that Kurt was painfully in _lust_ (Harry honestly didn't think it was love) or _infatuation_ with Finn Hudson, the dopey jock who, despite tipping him into a dumpster, treated him kindly. So much so that he willingly threw a slushie over himself so that Finn didn't get beaten up. It annoyed Harry to no end - especially when Finn was obviously straight. Well... Not so much as _obvious_ as it was all Finn knew and emulated; Harry was willing to wager that he'd rarely thought of homosexuality before Kurt. "So what draws you to him?" Harry asked politely, taking a sip of his drink. "I don't think it's the whole pregnant ex-maybe not-girlfriend, or his dashing looks..."

Kurt smiled wistfully. "Beauty is subjective. He's kind to me, Harry. He lets me take of my jacket when I go for a dumpster dive. Little things."

"So you're crushing on him because you find him physically attractive and he _treats you well_? He doesn't try to stop the dumpster dives, though, does he?" Harry's dubious expression made Kurt's happy one falter and he sighed.

"You can't help who you like, Harry," Kurt explained as if Harry was slow - maybe he was when it came to romance? "Don't you understand?"

Harry was flummoxed. He didn't understand. Sure, there was his love-hate relationship with Draco Malfoy, but that relied on Draco taking and Harry willing to give - it wasn't a matter of Draco or Harry liking each other. They offered things. His brief fling with Cedric Diggory - Harry was taking and Cedric willing to give. _He had never experienced infatuation from simple kindness._ "I don't... Think it works like that," Harry finally admitted. "To me, having a crush works on mutual attraction and the willingness of the two parties to give and take, not just _kindness_. There has to be something else there."

Kurt cocked his head in confusion. "But what about your flirting with Noah Puckerman?"

"That's just a bit of fun," Harry laughed, finally understanding Kurt's point of view. Kurt showed interest in one person, putting all of his eggs in one basket, while Harry preferred to keep people close and expand relationships that way. "That doesn't mean I like him. Or crush on him, or fancy him - it's light hearted teasing."

"Why would you do that, though, if you don't like him? I understand, I really do, I just don't understand _why_. It's obvious Noah isn't gay, so - "

"And it's obvious Finn isn't either," Harry interrupted, his voice lowered. "If you fancied every bloke who was _kind_ enough to _take your jacket_ before throwing you into a garbage bin filled with _shit_..."

Kurt blinked. "I think we should drop the subject."

"I just think you should aim a little more for _gay_ lovers, not straight ones," Harry shrugged. "So, tell me all the gossip about the school."

"Well Puck," Kurt gave him a pointed stare. "Has gotten Finn's ex-girlfriend pregnant," Harry choked on his drink, erupting into small giggles when his coughing fit was over. Kurt carried on, filling him with the nitty-gritty of McKinley High. Harry hadn't laughed so much in a long time - Kurt was especially dramatic when he described the terror of Sue Sylvester and how she had appointed Santana, Brittany and Quinn in the Glee club to tear it down. "She doesn't know I know, of course, but they aren't exactly _inconspicuous. _So, Harry. Tell me about you."

"About me?" Harry cocked his head. "All right. My name is Harry James Potter and I was born on the thirty-first of July. My best friend's are called Hermione and Ron, who I've been friends with since I was eleven; they were my first ever friends," Harry admitted shyly. "However, I have another best friend named Draco. He's... Well, we spent three or four years hating each others guts until everything changed. His friends ditched him - I don't know why - and he was alone. I was going through a rough period and somehow, we became friends. You've heard about the terrorism in Britain, right?" Kurt nodded his head.

"Well, our school was caught up in a bomb hit. A lot of us didn't get out unscathed - Ron lost a brother - our school had gone and we had nowhere else to go. We had the options of relocating for a month or so to a sister boarding school or continuing our studies at home until the school was rebuilt. Long story short, my exams were startlingly easy from a month of own-study and I graduated then and there. Fast track two weeks or so - I came here. Spur of the moment. There wasn't really much left for me in England." Harry shrugged at Kurt's wide, slightly glistening eyes. "Here's hoping for the best, aye?"

Kurt nodded stiffly, taking a sip of his drink. "I'm Kurt Elizabeth Hummel - yes, that's my real name," Kurt looked up, expecting to see a look of confusion or amusement on Harry's face, but there was only interest. "I was born May twenty seventh. I'm not as interesting as you," Kurt joked, pleased when Harry grinned cheekily. "Well, my best friend is Mercedes, and that's a funny story," He laughed slightly. "I was - well, incredibly in the closet at the start of the year. Mercedes started to like me and ended up smashing my car window when I told her I 'loved' Rachel. She was surprisingly cool about me then coming out gay, but I hope she felt embarrassed for not seeing the signs," Harry laughed loudly, making Kurt's face redden. His glasz eyes were wide, but there was a pleased smile curling on his lips. "I guess I'm frenemies with Rachel Berry," Kurt rolled his eyes.

"She's hopelessly in love with Finn, so she's competition," Kurt tried not to let it show how much Harry's words had affected him. Was there any point lusting after a straight boy who really _didn't_ try to stop the dumpster dives? "But there's nothing really there because Finn loves Quinn. Despite the fact that she cheated on him with his best friend and lied to make it seem like the baby was his," Kurt rolled his eyes again, taking a sip of his drink. "He even has a name - Drizzle. Nobody has told him yet." Harry scoffed softly, feeling slightly disgusted by the affairs of McKinley.

"I guess the worst thing we had was a fourteen year old girl _practising_ with the upper years of my school," Harry offered, smiling fondly at the thought of Ginny Weasley. "She did it for money, anything - they wanted practice, she wanted practice, her family was poor. Her mother's reaction..." Harry laughed. "Molly nearly had an aneurysm, despite Ginny still being a virgin. Nobody was ever pregnant, from my recollection, but there were spontaneous proposals..."

"No spontaneous proposals, plenty of _practising_." Kurt laughed. "Brilliant. It's great to know that British and American schools aren't that different. I know the semesters are different, and the year system. It's _not_ that different, is it?" Kurt's eyes were wide. "You're okay with your education, aren't you?"

Harry laughed, green eyes bright and excited. "It's more different than you'd expect," Harry chuckled as if there was a hidden meaning behind it, but Kurt didn't ponder on it. "Education wise... Struggling a little - home studies are all well and good but it requires dedication I don't have - and I can _tell_ I'm going to struggle at Chemistry. Just my luck that Sn - erm, _King_ teaches it." Harry rolled his brilliant eyes, finishing his drink. "_Oh Harry, you're failing, how about some family-tutoring? Oh Potter, just my luck; you bumbling dunderhead - I get away from you and now you need one-on-one tuition because your IQ is limited to coitus!_" Kurt giggled loudly, drawing Harry's attention to the other boy's lips. He blushed, tearing his eyes away. _No point crushing on a boy who fancies a straight boy,_ Harry reprimanded himself.

"I'm sure he isn't _that_ bad, Harry," Kurt finally said. "Sure, he's a giant ass to everyone, but not many teachers would cover you hurting someone like that like he did. Or give suggestions on what to do next."

"Maybe," Harry sighed. "Maybe. So - another?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Save All Your Kisses**

**Summary**: Harry Potter was sick of it; of the media, of the pitying looks - he was stressed. So, he got a map, and trailed his finger across it with his eyes slammed shut. Wherever his finger landed, he would go - and, opening his eyes, he saw Lima, Ohio. A Muggle town; what about his lack of education? He wasn't sure. He had to admit there was a certain thrill about going in with no real plan; and that's what he did.

**AN**: Eek, I'm surprised at the response I've gotten for 2,887 words. x'D Two reviews almost instantly, eight favourites and twenty four alerts a day later. Lord help me.

Glee canon has been changed. It's probably around early 2009/2010 and after the Sectionals; Sue has already blackmailed Figgins into returning (roofies yay). Hell-O will be following soon enough, so I don't deviate from the canon _too_ much.

Any critique is absolutely adored _(and if you can't tell, I'm writing this after finishing the second chapter and not posting it teehee)_.

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Harry grimaced, brushing his teeth while removing a small package from George's owl. "Thank you," he said to the owl, giving it a shiny golden coin and some water. He enlarged the package and the paper fell away, revealing a clear plastic box filled with brightly wrapped boxes and, on the very top, a box with an image of a phone. The owl let out a screech and flew away.

He opened the box and removed the box with a phone in - _Freddie's Calling!_ It proudly advertised. _A magical phone for my littlest brother._ The handwriting was clearly Fred's; a lump rose in his throat as more writing appeared below it in George's writing. _Harry, Fred was making this for you all through Fourth and Fifth year. Said something about Muggle's using them to reach anyone they wanted, when and wherever they wanted - he thought it'd be useful during the war. He never got around to finishing it, but I've gone through his plans and finished it completely. Now that you're in the Muggle world, you'll have to 'charge' it using your magic; Muggle electricity __**will**__ make the telephone explode. Quite fun, actually. To bring up 'text messages' or 'phone numbers', just say it and it'll appear. _

The writing disappeared as if it had been rubbed away, and new words formed in its place. _These are the Muggle-friendly pranking items you've requested, such as the Puking Pastilles and U-No-Poo. Our Muggle items aren't as wicked as I know you enjoy, so I've only packed a few. There's also the **Skiving Snackbox**, where you have more Puking Pastilles, Nosebleed Nougat and everything else you desire._ The writing erased itself again. _I know - I know you left for a reason, Harry, but I still need you here. If... wherever you are proves to be a fruitless venture, come back to me. Fred would want you here._

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat and waited for more writing to appear, but the box became silent and erased itself. He opened the box and held the small, white device in his hands; it didn't look like a mobile he'd seen before. It was oval-round, the backing melded to his spidery fingers, and the screen was a muted blue. He tapped the screen with a long, pale finger and the screen lit up, flashing through the colours of the rainbow before settling on a moving picture of Harry and the Weasley family at Bill's wedding. "Contacts." The machine vibrated in his hands and a list of names appeared - _Sirius Black_,_ Hermione Granger,_ _Draco Malfoy, __George Weasley, Ginny Weasley__, Ron Weasley_. "Ring George Weasley."

The phone let out a loud noise, sounding like a contented purr or a growl, and the speakers that Harry couldn't see began to blast out the stereotypical noise of a phone. George answered within two rings, sounding incredibly excited when he said, "It works, right? Even though you're not in the Wizarding World?"

Harry laughed in reply. "Is there any way to make it personal, not blasting out like this?"

"Oh, yes," George sighed contentedly, his voice rich and smooth and not tinny like Harry was expecting. "Just put the phone to your ear and the device will do the rest. How is it? Where you are?"

"It's fine... George, I found Snape." Harry said bluntly, shifting the device up to his ear. "Living, breathing, sneering Severus Snape. Can you believe it?"

George barked out a laugh that gradually became louder and hysterical. "You're lying, right? Snape? _Snape?!_ In the Muggle world?! What do you want me to do? What do I do?"

"George, sweetie, calm down," Harry soothed, wishing that he could see and hug the older boy, his older brother in all but name and blood. "I need you to calm down now. Sit down. Find some parchment and a quill - write a letter to Kingsley and explain that Severus Snape is currently in Muggle Lima, Ohio, America. You cannot mention me. _At all_. You received an anonymous tip-off from one of your shadier clients. Got that? Don't do anything rash, just calm down."

Harry listened, soft puffs of breath and the scratching of a quill. "Done it," George murmured, suddenly sounding incredibly tired. "Just your luck, isn't it, Harry? Erm - Malfoy! Yes, Malfoy - he wants to," George took a deep breath. "He wants to come stay with you. Not now," he hastened to add, unknowing of the smile on Harry's face. "He has to sort out his father's trial, but he wants to live with you. You have enough rooms, right?"

"What about Muggle education? Blood purity?" He moved the device away from his ear, waving his wand at his wardrobe. A white shirt flew out first, followed by a pair of blue jeans and a dark jacket. "I know he's changed, no matter how much you deny it, but I don't think I could trust him in a backwater place with only myself around."

George sighed again. "You're the one whose friends with him, Harry. And, ultimately, its your house and your decision. He doesn't even know where you are. You don't want him there, he won't be. If you want him there... You're going to have to control his tongue and maybe make him a respectable human being."

"So..." Harry searched for a different topic. "These phones are pretty wicked, aren't they?" George laughed loudly, the sound of a muffled explosion coming through the phone. "I just speak commands, then? Can I not type them or find them or something?"

"Just triple tap the middle of the screen when you use it and a menu will come up for you." Harry stepped into his dragonhide boots after pulling on some sports socks. "Oops - that's not supposed to happen. Bye, Harry! Don't be a stranger! Oh and make _sure_ you don't use the toffee's on Muggles. Maybe Snape instead. I added a little... _Zing_ to them." George ended the call before Harry could even begin to question what he'd done to them, and when he tried to ring back the screen turned an angry read, reading, _Forge does not want to speak to Viper._

"Bastard," Harry laughed, waving his hand and his school bag leapt into action, the thin straps seemingly becoming arms and filling the bag full of what he'd need. He dropped the _Skiving Snackbox_ on top and tapped it, stilling the puking boy on front and stopping the gush of blood from oozing from the letter "n". He pulled the drawstring and swung the bag over his shoulder, Apparating to the door and locking up. He placed the tip of his wand on the door knocker and the house faded from view slightly - it was more of a mirage ward than anything else, making it so you believed there was no house there until you _knew_ or were at the very doorstep. Bill's creation.

He swung his bag on the passenger seat of his car and pulled away, hoping to get to the Lima Bean for an Espresso compilation to go. Would they do that? Were they even open? He pursed his lips in thought, before sighing. He had no time anyway - not if Kurt was serious about his hair. Harry hoped he was - he had deliberately left his hair curly and scruffy today; he pushed it back and ruffled it slightly to the side, leaving the lightning bolt scar visible.

He pulled into the car park, realising with a start that Kurt was nowhere to be seen. He searched and searched, but the only thing he could see was Puck standing with the jocks by a dumpster. His blood ran cold when he realised the lid was closed and that was _definitely_ a jacket that Kurt would wear, discarded on the floor next to a bag Harry just _knew_ was Kurt's. Lead settled in his stomach; he grabbed his bag and bolted out of his car, slamming the door closed behind him. Cold fury was on his face - Puck gave him a frown and nodded to the dumpster, his brown eyes dark. "What have you _done_?" Harry spat, dodging a meaty hand as he shoved the dumpster lid open.

Startled blue eyes gazed back at him - Harry bit his inner cheek, wincing when metallic blood entered his mouth. "Puck - take your little cronies and _fuck off._" Harry's voice booked no arguments as he stood on his tiptoes and held a hand into the bin. Kurt took his hand, shaking slightly when he saw the smirking jocks and Puck trying to move them, but they weren't moving. "Are you okay, Kurt?" Harry asked, body trembling all over. Kurt thought, for a split second, that Harry was scared - but then he looked him in the face and _Kurt_ was terrified.

Harry was furious, his eyes seemingly glowing in the harsh sunlight and his brows furrowed. "I'm - um, I'm fine, Harry." Kurt absent-mindedly fingered one loose curl of Harry's hair. "It's okay, really."

Harry's eyes darkened and he span around, itching to hex or curse - or _hurt_ the boys sneering in front of him. "Puck!" Harry barked; Puck jumped to attention before he realised what he was doing. "I told you - to _fuck off,_ you _fucking imbecile!_" Puck blinked and the jocks scattered - gone was the happy-go-lucky, innocent boy he'd seen yesterday. In his place was someone absolutely terrifying - and _shit_ were his eyes glowing? Harry let out a loud snarl and slammed his fist into the bin, breathing heavily. "Sorry, Kurt," Harry hissed through his teeth. "Oh my _shit_. I even brought hairspray and gel and everything!"

Kurt smiled softly which turned into giggles when Harry turned, a pout on his lips. "It's okay," Kurt waved his hand. "I can still fix your hair... Although I _bet_ you made it so messy on purpose, didn't you?" Harry grinned cheekily, breathing out and the tension seemingly leaving his body. "You really shouldn't swear, you know." Harry gave him a startled look - "You're not wearing your glasses!" Kurt gasped. "I tried to look through them yesterday - you're pretty much blind! How - what?"

"Contact lenses," Harry grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. "Do you like my eyes, Kurt?" Kurt nodded, trying to find a speck of colour that _wasn't_ green in them, but unable to do so. They were _emerald. _There was no fade of colour, just twinkling emerald - the outer ring was slightly darker, but it was only noticeable if you were looking. It was very nearly a block colour. "Come on, Kurt. You've still got to do my hair, remember?"

Kurt nodded, gulping slightly; he picked up his jacket and bag, lightly spraying himself with a vanilla scented mist. He was inherently glad that it hadn't been raining and everything was all bagged up - it just meant there was an unpleasant smell lingering on his shirt and trousers _(which he could easily change)_. "Right. Ladies toilets - I guess it won't matter if we're five minutes late. We have World History, right?" Harry shrugged. "I think we do. We'll just - I don't have an excuse." Kurt laughed, rolling his shoulders before dragging Harry into the school.

"We could skip." Harry suggested lightly, looking through the corner of his eyes to see Kurt's reaction. The boy pursed his lips in thought, but he seemed open to the idea. "Or... I have some sweets I used to use in England to skive." Harry snickered when Kurt rose a finely sculpted eyebrow, reaching into his bag and removing a Nosebleed Nougat. "_This_... Will cause a heavy nose bleed." He pulled out the sweet that rectified the effects. "_This_ will stop it. I'll take the sweet, I'll bleed and ruin my lovely clothing, and we have an excuse."

"Are you sure it'll work?" Kurt eyed the sweet dubiously - Harry grinned and unwrapped it, popping the blood-red ball into his mouth and chewing down. Immediately his nose began to tingle and when he scrunched it slightly, a torrent of blood left his nose. Kurt let out a noise of alarm, confusion and disgust. "What the _hell_ do they teach you at boarding schools? Is this an English breakthrough the Americans haven't heard of yet? How does a sweet cause a sudden onslaught of blood? That's real blood, right?"

Harry swallowed the sweet and chewed on the other one, ending the flood of blood. He sniffled slightly, knowing his eyes were watering and his nose was probably a sickly red, holding his hand beneath his nose to stem the flow further. "Is there a bathroom anywhere? This is all a little messy and I've bled on the floor," Harry grinned and showed bloody teeth. Kurt grimaced but couldn't look away. "And on my shirt... Oops."

Kurt finally smiled. "We have World History first; I just checked - I'm pretty sure _Noah_ will be there. Will you be okay?" Kurt asked, taking Harry by his free hand and leading him to the nearest female toilet. Harry looked confused but also amused, so Kurt didn't expand on his bathroom choice. "You looked furious."

Harry sneered instantly. "I _am _furious. Where does he - who knocked up some blonde chit who was dating _another_ guy who was his best friend - find the balls to throw you in that box of festering rubbish and _shite_? Because what? You're gay? You tell him he's a Neanderthal? For his own entertainment?" Harry began to rattle off reasons _why_ that made Kurt's head reel - from just two days, really, of knowing Potter Harry Potter, the other boy had revealed things about himself and how others saw him - "Because you're sassy enough to retort? Easy target?" and it revealed startling insight to the inner workings of McKinley, things that Kurt would have never originally considered - "Because you're something different? But these backwards _arseholes_ can get away with pushing a kid into a locker, or covering him in a sickly sweet drink - of course I'm furious!"

"On my behalf, or...?" Kurt asked, honest to goodness curious. He still had his wedding plans in mind; Harry was funny with a rebellious _and_ protective streak, but that he didn't know designers and chose clothes that looked _good_ and mixed designers that shouldn't be mixed - or clothes that his "enemy turned best friend" Draco made him wear really shortened the planning a little.

Harry paused, wiping the last remnants of his nose bleed from his nostrils and giving his nose a firm tweak - Kurt could make out the slightest hints of blushing cheeks through the mirror. "More of a human-moral dilemma, with a side of protective concern-cross-saving people thing for my new friend." Steady green eyes met glasz. "Come on, then. Fix my hair."

"So how did you get so good at fighting?" Kurt asked, combing through the unruly locks with his fingers and lightly tousling it, spraying it. His eye twitched when the hair _popped_ back into place. He tried again, covering his fingers in gel and pulling the hair into place; he sprayed it again with the hair spray and kept his hand in place.

"Erm - I guess it started in primary school. My cousin used to bully me something chronic and when I received my acceptance letter to Hogwarts - the name of my school - " Kurt stifled a chuckle at the name, choosing instead to focus on not tearing the smaller boy's hair out in his frustration. "He was all _why can't I go, why does the freak get to go_," Kurt stiffened at the word freak. "And he tried to ruin my things for my school, so I punched him. Very nearly broke my fingers... And then I got to Hogwarts and the upper years, especially in Slytherin - "

"Slytherin?" Kurt asked before he could stop himself, letting out a slight squeak of joy when the boy's hair _finally_ stayed where Kurt put it.

"It was a House - like Vincent, Bennett, Wedgewood - we had Gryffindor, my House, Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Gryffindor was the House of the Brave, Slytherin the House of the Sly and Cunning, Ravenclaw the House of Intelligence and Hufflepuff - what the hell is a Hufflepuff?" Harry laughed, and Kurt laughed too. "Was the House of the Loyalty. Basically, Gryffindor's were the teachers pets but as thick as shit or painfully clever, Slytherin's were smarmy bastards with too much money and relied on mummy and daddy too much, Ravenclaw's were socially inept with photographic or eidetic memories and Hufflepuff's were the rejects because they lacked any quality other than submissiveness."

"And they put you in these Houses aged eleven, so you could be annoying and brattish to reach those expectations, right?" Kurt sassed - Harry barked a laugh.

"Yeah, pretty much. Anyway, back to the bullying. The upper year Slytherin's were wankers and by the time I was in Second year, it was absolute hell. So I started to go for runs, little things, and before I knew it - well, Fourth year - I was awesome. I don't mean to toot my horn, but I was. They called me the Gryffindor King, between giving me fearful looks and accusing me of insanity."

Kurt snorted through his nose, the sound catching in his throat. He had to cough it away; the innocent grin on Harry's face was worth the current hacking he was doing. "Why did they think you were insane?" Kurt asked after recovering. "Gryffindor _King_?" Kurt finally cackled, throwing his head back and letting loose. "What did you do - sleep with everyone?"

Harry looked scandalised. "Of course not! I just started a prank war and won it."

"A _prank war_?" Kurt laughed harder, bending over and placing his hands on his knees. "With who?"

"Mister King..." Harry admitted shyly, shuffling slightly where he stood. "And these two boys who were in Gryffindor with me, Fred and George, and Draco," Here Harry finally laughed. "If you ever meet Draco and he pisses you off, call him a pretty ferret. I guarantee he'll storm off."

"I _have_ to know the story behind that! What do you mean you pranked a teacher - Mr. King?" Kurt looked ready to blow a gasket. "And you wonder why he treated you so poorly?"

"Well, Draco was saying some shit about my parents and being good-for-nothing and made these badges that were horrible, so we stuffed a live ferret down his trousers. His shrieks were music to my ears. And, as for King, he gave as good as he got. It was a little thing - he was the Head of Slytherin - I put honey in the Sitting rooms floors and a tonne of trip wires - someone triggered it and they were covered in feathers and super glue and it was _so_ funny, honestly; and along comes King and he decides that, to get us back, he'll plant stink bombs in front of our dorm opening!" Harry laughed loudly at the memory. "God it was brilliant. For my winning prank against him, I hired someone to follow him around singing badly, like a little Cupid-gram person," Harry smiled fondly at the memory of Dobby, chasing Snape through the school while singing _Shut Up and Sleep With Me_. "And when he'd finally had enough, he stormed into the Dining Hall and I shot him with a confetti cannon and dyed all of his clothes pink." Harry finished smugly. "I mean, maybe he had me dress up as Doctor Frank-n-Furter in front of the entire school the day after, but that was like a regular excursion for me so it wasn't really a prank. Hell, Fred and George dressed up too, and Draco. We gave everyone a show."

Kurt choked again, blushing madly and looking from right to left, hoping to change the conversation. Harry rose his eyebrow. "What's with that face, Kurt?" Kurt blushed brighter still, ducking his head down. "I was in a production of Rocky Horror when I was at home, Kurt." Harry sighed, ruffling his hair slightly. "Come on, we're five minutes late." He pinched his nose again, leaving it a glowing red and sliding his jacket from his shoulders slightly, leaving the blood on his shirt visible.

Kurt followed behind, unable to look at the other boy. He didn't know why he was suddenly so awkward - drag just wasn't his thing. Sure, he'd worn a corset to school before - he guessed a corset with fishnet stockings and high heels wasn't that bad, right?

Harry sighed and put his hand in his hand, wandlessly summoning the image of Harry and Draco, thrusting it under Kurt's nose. Kurt flushed - he assumed the other boy was Harry's best frenemy, with his platinum blonde hair falling over sultry mercury eyes, the thick body toned and lean in golden booty shorts and nothing else - and Harry was wrapped around him, his eyes lit in happiness, piercing behind thick, dark make up and his lips stretched in a full smile, covered in dark lipstick and lip gloss. Harry wore a dark red corset, glittering with dark jewels, proper with a red feather boa over his shoulders, and _Gaga_ the other boy was painfully beautiful. "It was just a bit of fun, Kurt. I'm not a drag queen on weekends, nor do I partake in cross dressing every alternate day - although honestly I wouldn't see the problem if I was. Besides... Tim Curry was pretty fucking awesome in those fishnet stockings."

Harry sauntered into the room, smiling beatifically. Kurt followed soon behind. "Sorry, sir. Terrible nosebleed - Kurt helped me out."

Mr. Jones gave him a _look_. The man seemed to know he was lying, despite his bloody shirt and red nose. "Sit, boys," he finally sighed.

Puck perked up at the sight of the two boys, visibly deflating under Harry's harsh glare. The boy pranced over, removing his World History book from his bag and dropping his bag to the floor. Kurt tucked the photograph into his pocket, giving Puck a wan smile, making the bigger boy frown slightly. "I'm sorry," Puck whispered to Harry once the teacher turned around, ranting about some dates Harry cared little for. "I mean - "

"One, Noah, you shouldn't be apologising to **me**. Two, what are you apologising for? Being caught? If you're sorry for the act, you apologise to Kurt, and you mean it, and you fucking stop it. You tell your little wankers to stop, and you and they fucking stop. Do you understand? If you're sorry for being caught... Go fuck yourself." Harry gave the boy a vicious ultimatum, knowing that if he apologised to Kurt it may be the end of Puck's reputation - but surely he realised reputations meant nothing outside of high school, and _yes_ it was easier for all involved if they didn't make these four or so years living hell. As Harry gazed at the other boy, it began to dawn on him.

Reputations meant everything to the other boy, and he felt more worried than disgusted. "Fine." Puck let out a harsh breath, snapping, "Hummel!" Kurt turned around with a contemptuous sneer on his delicate features; Harry grimaced. "I'm sorry. For everything. I'll stop. I can't say everyone else will stop, but I'll try, okay?"

Kurt smiled softly. "Okay. But don't expect me to forgive you, Puckerman. You've tormented me for too long."

Puck grinned goofily, slapping a meaty hand on Harry's back. "See? Can we be friends again now?" Puck pouted, turning big gooey eyes on Harry and fluttering his eyelashes. "You're awesome, dude. Karofsky has this massive whack-off bruise of his face from where you hit him, and his shoulders are super stiff and he even has a footprint bruise on his back! Hopefully his Hockey buddies will stop bagging on the Football team when he got taken down by _you_."

Harry gulped. "Oops. I didn't think I was being that rough... He's okay, isn't he? I feel terrible. I emasculated him in front of all his friends," Harry fretted, twisting and folding his hands together. "Nobody's teasing him about it, are they?"

Puck gave him an incredulous look. "He's a douche. Anyone giving him shit - they have my full backing."

Harry rolled his eyes. "You do realise how bad that sounds, right? So what if he's a douche? It doesn't mean people have to treat him like shit as revenge or something - you have to be the bigger man and rise above his childishness - or brutishness, in this case."

"But you twisted both of his arms and had his nose on the floor," Puck said, not understanding. "You didn't rise above it. You hurt him back, didn't you?" Harry pursed his lips, his eyes glinting dangerously. "I'm just saying! You hurt him back. You're not being the bigger man."

"There's a difference between snapping someone out of being a dick, or snapping at someone and encouraging him to be a dick. Yesterday I showed him that he's not all that tough when it's one on one - and he also had the horror and mortification of being smacked down by a short, new gay kid, who _also_ showed him up in P. E. If people continue to ridicule him for it, he'll become a terror until he has everyone in their place - and I know American gun laws are weak, so who's to say he won't hunt me down and shoot me or some shit like that?"

Puck and Kurt gaped in horror. "You can't say things like that!" Puck admonished, checking to make sure nobody was listening. Harry sneered.

"Why not? I'll be honest - country-esque American towns are the worst for raising broken kids who blow their own brains - and those around them - out. Just look at Columbine. Nobody had heard of it until they shot up the school - suddenly it had a place on the map. Have either of you heard of _We Need to Talk About Kevin_? He was a perfectly normal kid with a few... mummy issues. Potential sociopath. You wouldn't expect it of him, not really. You don't want to add fuel to some kid's fire and have them go bat-shit crazy, do you?"

"You can't... Predict things like that. To use a tragedy like that, or a Lionel Shriver novel... You're a little uninformed," Kurt explained as if Harry was slow. His leash on his hot temper began to shorten. "You can't _say_ that he could shoot up a school - "

Harry thought of an innocent Hufflepuff, aged fifteen, staring him down with a wand directly between his eyes, _Avada Kedavra_ on her lips - all because Harry didn't know her name. _Teased_, she was. _Bullied._ And she was all too ready to kill him, to hand Hogwarts over to Voldemort - because someone, somehow had pushed her too far, and her Harry Potter hadn't saved her. "I'm _not _saying he will! You _can't_ say that he won't!" Harry snapped back. "I'm not _predicting_ jack shit! But you push _any_ kid too far, too much, and they'll snap. Kurt - what would you do if your bullying got worse, hm? Cry? Whine? Hold your head high? Or would you sooner find a knife or some rope and kill yourself, because you can't handle it any more and it'd be a giant _fuck you_ to those who'd hurt you?"

"I would never - " Kurt hissed, the pair of them getting closer until Puck swore he saw lightning or electricity or some shit flying between their eyes. "I'd keep going!"

"But _would_ you?" Harry asked, smirking victoriously when Kurt paled. "Okay, maybe not as drastic as killing yourself - but what if you _hurt_ someone, and you enjoyed it? Or changed schools because you can't cope any more?"

"I think we should stop," Puck interjected firmly. "This is deep shit and it doesn't need discussing. Karofsky is a bastard. He pushes people to those extents, Harry, so stop pitying him or whatever the fuck you're feeling for him. You don't know him - you gave him a cruel awakening, and _that's that._"

Harry sniffed disdainfully. "I know he's a bastard, Puck, but that doesn't mean you nor Kurt have any right bullying him like he did Kurt. While revenge may be sweet, you will not gain any gratification from it years down the line."

* * *

The day, up until lunch time, passed without any major hitch. Harry was frequently arguing with both Puck and Kurt, and the three of them enjoyed the confrontations. It was nice to see Puck and Kurt actually getting along and trying to find common ground, while at the same time bonding with the other two. "Harry, don't you have detention?" Kurt said pointedly but softly.

Puck snickered beside him, "Detention already?" Harry held his hand up for a customary fist touch; Puck obliged happily. "You're one awesome little dude, you know." Harry bolted after ruffling Kurt's hair, sprinting to his detention.

Kurt gave Puck a tiny smile, wondering if he was going to leave now Harry was gone. He was pleasantly surprised when the larger boy threw one meaty arm over his shoulder and led them to the cafeteria, chatting his ear off. "I mean, I never thought you homos would be so awesome, but I swear when you and my boy are going at it, you're awesome. Totally awesome. And I promise, you'll never get bullied again. Not by me or anyone else I can stop, 'kay? I mean, I know you won't forgive me and shit but I really don't care, I'm an ass, you're an ass, we can be asses together."

Kurt smiled warmly, honest-to-goodness touched by Puck's words. "Well, in that case..."

* * *

Harry knocked nervously on Snape's door, zipping up his jacket to hide the bloody stain on his collar.

"You're two minutes and forty-seven seconds late, Potter!" Snape roared from inside of the classroom - Harry nearly Apparated away before he realised he was in the Muggle world. "In."

Harry opened the door, peering around nervously. There were four other students sat in there, all staring at him in terror. One of them even mouthed "good luck". Another was bruised and battered - the boy - _Karofsky_ - Harry had brutalised yesterday.

"Hello, sir." Harry greeted, smiling charmingly. "You're looking as dapper as always, although the surly attitude could go." Harry shook his head, smiling warmly.

Snape clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Need I remind you that I'm a teacher, Potter? Your ruggish charm and father's dastardly ways will not schmooze me." Harry, despite his amusement, maintained a straight face.

"Blast. Here I was, hoping you getting me into a corset was a sign of your undying love for me - or maybe a fetish. It _was_ quite comfortable, after all - soft lining. You're so considerate, sir." Snape choked, paling. The students in the room didn't know what to say or do, although Karofsky looked incredibly amused. "I hope you kept those pictures I took for you, sir. Draco was quite adamant that our... precarious situation would tide you over for a couple of years. Or, at least until your penis shot out dust and a sign reading 'bang'."

Snape looked ready to pass out or have an aneurysm - Harry physically gave himself a pat on the back. "He's joking!" Snape finally burst out, the tiniest dusting of pink on his pale cheeks. Harry smirked deviously, swaggering over to the front row and settling down. "Potter - tell them you're joking!"

Harry cackled. "I haven't broke you, have I, dearest God-daddy-dear?" Harry fluttered his dark lashes, lips protruding in a soft pout. "I'm only joking," He rolled his eyes. "Mister King isn't my type."

"Merlin's saggy ball sack, Potter!" Snape roared, his left eye twitching.

"And apparently I'm not your type, either." Harry cocked his head, smirking deviously. "Shame. I know what you have underneath your clothing."

"**Sit here for twenty minutes then go**!" Snape belted out, storming from the room.

"I definitely broke him." Harry grinned. "All in a days work," He sighed contentedly. "He's so easy to rile up."

The others in detention tried not to listen to him, so he pulled out his cute, round phone and triple tapped on the centre. The phone buzzed to life, lighting up every possible colour imaginable, and a menu listing his options came up. He was tempted to investigate, but instead chose to click "Contacts" and tapped on Draco. "Text" and "Call" came up from selecting that, as well as a picture of Draco as Rocky, smirking as Harry gave him a lap dance. Harry blushed, choosing "Text"; a keyboard came up, as well as a little bubble where he could see his own message.

_Hello, Draco. I'm incredibly bored without you, sweetie. There are these two cute Muggle boys I know you'd love - Kurt has an excellent sense of fashion while Puck has the deepest brown eyes you've ever seen. Unfortunately, Puck's straight. However, I'm sure with a little lip gloss, hair toss and hip swing - just how you taught me, sweetie - I can make him swing my way. Kurt's friends aren't brilliant - none of them have even said hello to me today! I also faked a nosebleed to have an excuse to be late. Kurt decided to fix my hair so that I could cuddle him when I want - sadly, he's not you. How is the evidence collation going?_

He waited five minutes for Draco's reply.

**Hello, Harry. I want to say I'm bored without you, but I'm mostly just horny. **Harry blushed again. **Puck, hm? From that Muggle play? I have no doubt you can convert him, but maybe you and I should give him a show sometime? What time is it for you? And - well, not brilliant. We need you to testify in court.**

_I'm sure your hand can satisfy you for another month or so. Have you been reading those books I gave you about Muggle education? I'm looking forward to giving him a show, but it better just be a Rocky Horror themed lap dance or something. Voyeurism isn't one of my kinks, you know? It's lunch time for me. I can do that! You make me the Port keys and give me the date and time of the Hearing, and I'll do that for you no problem._

**Yes, I have. I'm pretty sure the 'Founding Fathers' of America were closeted slave owners. I don't know why I can't come out to you _now_! I'll be fine! And as for a lap dance... We'll have to get re-acquainted first, Potter. Ah - it's tea time in England. The manor has never been so quiet, darling. Well, the Hearing is in two weeks from now, England time. So you should just Floo to the manor in the morning and go from there.**

**And what the fuck do you mean you weren't into voyeurism?**

"Are the twenty minutes up yet?" Harry sighed obnoxiously, tapping out his reply.

_Don't say that here. I mentioned school shootings and got my head ripped off. You can come to me, sweetie, when you're not calling people "closeted slave owners". I'll see you then, sweet pea. To me it'll probably be like four in the morning, and to you nine - so don't worry if I want to tear you a new one, okay? And you **know** voyeurism was your thing. I did it to please you._

**And you pleased me so well. **

Harry pouted, checking the time on the device. It had been roughly eleven minutes since the detention began, and he was never good at staying in one place. "Karofsky," Harry turned to face the bigger boy, who stiffened and tried to look away. "Mess with me again and I swear, that bruise and your arms will be the last of your worries, all right? And guess what? That extends to Kurt and his little Glee club as well. You're not going to mess with them, do you understand?" Harry spat, inwardly amused when the boy clamped his legs together and nodded, face incredibly pale. "And you know what else you're going to do for me, sweet pea?" Harry cooed. "You're going to try to stop your little fuck-buddies from messing with them too, all right? To the best of your ability. I've grown close to Kurt these past few days - and if you don't want me to hunt you down and rip your dick off, you'll stop."

Karofsky nodded, pale and furious. Just when the little bastard was growing on him - despite being openly gay - with his masturbation jokes and making King storm off in a huff... He pulled this shit! "And if I refuse? Besides the 'ripping my dick off' thing that I _know_ you won't do..."

Harry smiled sweetly. "_I_ don't need to rip your dick off, sweetie. I can get people to do it for me with a swing of my hips and a sultry smile. And you _will_ stop." With that said, he stood and strode out, smiling innocently. It was expected of him to leave Snape's detentions at _least_ five minutes early.

_Just threatened a kid - feeling great, I'll be honest._ He sent Draco a quick text, entering the Cafeteria and searching the den of angsting, hormonal children he has to call classmates for the only decent people he could find.

**Does he deserve it?** Draco text back; Harry saw Puck's Mohawk and beefy shoulders and strode over, tapping out his reply.

_Bullying Kurt for liking cock. Deserves every piece of shit I throw at him._

**I'm pretty sure you contradict all of your tightly upheld morals, Potter.**

_Sssh. It's okay when I threaten someone, but people can't do it too, just to take the piss. _Did that make sense? He slid next to Kurt and beside Puck naturally, tapping his messages away.

"Ooh, who're you texting?" Puck asked, leaning over and pressing himself tightly on Harry's side. "Somebody cute, right?"

Harry beamed, going to contacts and bringing up the picture of Draco and himself. Puck let out a very unmanly squeal. "Wh - what are you doing?! Are you - "

"Lap dance," Harry explained, rolling his eyes at Puck's theatrics. "Look, Kurt, you can even see my bum in this one," Harry gushed, showing the picture to Kurt. Kurt flushed, the colour darkening when Mercedes began to fire off questions to the pair of them. "Sh! Look, I make the perfect Doctor Frank-N-Furter, right? The women's underwear were a little difficult, but I'm pretty sure I look damn fine. Please don't hate me because I liked wearing a corset and heels."

"Don't shush me!" Mercedes gasped, aghast. "You can't act like you own the place here! You're not even in Glee!" Mercedes carried on.

Harry pouted, turning his gaze on her and making her shift but she still continued to speak. When his lower lip began to wobble and eyes began to well up, Kurt intervened with a sharp, "Mercedes! Harry was speaking!" Kurt then turned his body slightly so that Harry could cuddle him, all the way shooting an angry glare at his best friend. Harry was tempted to wink at the girl, but knew it would backfire. "Are you okay? Mr. King didn't give you a hard time, did he?"

Harry looked up, feigning shyness. "Karfosky was in there. I teased King something chronic and told Karofsky to leave you and your little happy club alone. Is that okay?"

Kurt smiled warmly, tightening his grip before releasing the boy. "That's fine. Between you telling Noah off and now David as well, I think McKinley will be a changed place," Kurt joked. He didn't know how to show that this was more than anyone had really attempted to do for him and he was eternally grateful. Maybe he could wear his nicer clothing from now on? "Now, since you have a phone and I have a phone, can I have your number? You agreed to singing lessons!"

"Oh - sure. I don't know my number, but..." He triple tapped his phone and clicked on "Contacts" again.

"You hardly have anyone!" Kurt gasped, ripping the phone from Harry's grasp and pouting when it shut down on him. "Your phone has a brilliant security system." He tried to triple tap like Harry did, and the phone let out a noise that sounded like Harry's giggle. "Is your phone... Mocking me?"

Harry snickered, double tapping the screen and clicking on "Enter contacts". He typed in "Kurt Hummel" and Kurt tapped his number in.

"Add me too!" Puck said, leaning over. Harry rolled his eyes and did the same, Puck reciting his number. "Awesome. Send me a text."

Harry wrote, _Hello, my little bitches. x _and sent it to the pair. They replied almost instantly, Harry noting that Kurt was respectable and maintained proper English throughout his text - while Puck's made him want to gauge his eyeballs out while hitting the boy with a dictionary. "Awesome! Now I can bug you away from school too," Harry beamed. "And of course we're going to recreate our favourite musicals so I can have a picture with you two like I do Draco!"

"Potter!" Harry let out a yelp, looking upwards into gleaming black eyes. His free hand shot to Kurt's thigh who jumped. "So not only are you late to my detention, you threaten to rip someone's penis off and _leave early?_!"

Harry snorted a laugh, trying to desperately hide it. "You forgot the shameless flirting and blackmailing, as well."

"Don't back chat - I'm your _teacher_!" Snape looked terrified as Harry's words dawned on him. "You're _Potter's spawn!_ You just confessed to flirting and blackmailing me!"

"Are you okay, sir?" Harry asked, sweetly concerned. "I'm going to see Draco two weeks today, would you like to come too?"

"Potter's spawn! The mutt's Godson! _My G_odson!" Snape hissed, trying to make Harry see reason.

The boy sighed and rifled through his phone for compromising images. He found a video that he recognised; he clicked play and held it up to the man, the sound of Harry singing 'Sweet Transvestite' making Snape pale further. "Are you going to hold that against me forever?"

"Well I could have always held myself against you, but you turned me down, sir. I forgive, but I don't forget. You had your chance."

Snape wished the ground would swallow him whole; he stalked away, wishing he had the dramatic robes to match his angered stride.

"Did you - _what_?" Puck looked at confused faces just like his own. "That happened, right? You just flirted with Mr. King - and he's your Godfather?"

"Gaping doesn't suit you, sweetie." Harry gave him a slight tap on his cheek. "He also made me dress in drag, if it makes you feel any better - or any insight into how Mr. King works."

"I thought you said you couldn't sing." Kurt pouted. "I just heard you nail Tim Curry."

"Oh, I wish I was nailing Tim Curry," the remark slipped past his lips before he could stop himself. Kurt erupted into splutters, torn between laughing or fanning himself. "Would you like to see the video?" Harry asked, excited. "It's not much of a yowling cat bang because I look so pretty!"

Kurt waved his hand, finding a bottle of water and taking a deep gulp. He was pretty sure Potter Harry Potter, the innocent and beautiful boy he'd met in the Lima Bean, was a clever ruse. And that excited Kurt more than he was willing to admit. "Okay, go ahead."

Harry put the phone in front of him, clicking "Play" again. Kurt got an eyeful of Harry strutting down what he assumed to be a long corridor, but was actually the Great Hall. "Your voice is pretty." Kurt told him, tapping the screen and shutting the video off. "A little husky and rough, but I don't think you need any lessons from me. Audition for Glee, instead."

"But that wasn't the bet!" Harry pouted. "I could have crippling stage fright!"

"Hey, Lady Hummel! Don't you dare pressure my boy into something he doesn't want to do!" Santana's voice cut their conversation - the girl leaned down and pressed herself on Harry's back, giving him a hug. "It's okay, sweetie. You don't have to join Glee if you don't want to - its social suicide anyway. If you want, I can ask Coach Sylvester about signing you up for the Cheerios? We need someone with your speed and flexibility - and I think a little testosterone would do the girls good."

"What are the Cheerios?" Harry asked eagerly, twisting to hug the girl back. He heard Kurt's friend Mercedes whisper something and Kurt reply quickly. "Do I get a pretty uniform like yours?"

"The Cheerios are our cheerleading squad." Someone who wasn't Santana answered - Harry turned to face the girl who'd spoken. She was incredibly beautiful, with soft eyes and lovely blonde hair. Her voice was soft and at the same time husky, slightly nasal. "Santana is the new captain."

"You're the one Puck knocked up, right?" Harry asked bluntly. The girl let out a small gasp and began to glower at an innocently smiling Kurt. "Well done," he said to Puck. "Your baby will probably come out with a modelling contract."

Quinn smiled dazzlingly when she realised Harry complimented her. "You could probably replace Heather - she's been putting on too much weight recently. Coach is just begging for a reason to replace her - she just doesn't know it yet. Please be quiet about my baby."

Santana pouted as the attention left her - she hooked one leg over the bench and dropped herself on Harry's lap. "I've done some research sweetie - we have a Cassie Black? Short for Cassiopeia?"

"That sounds promising," Harry beamed. "That part of my family tends to name children after constellations. I'll check my family tree for any Cassiopeia Blacks that migrated to America." He wiggled around slightly so that Santana was comfortable and he had firm seating. "Was she single or married?"

"Single, but she had four kids." Santana leaned on him and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Why are all the good ones homo?"

Harry snorted. "Don't knock it till you try it, princess."

"What's that supposed to mean?" She pulled back, her dark eyes glinting. Harry smiled charmingly, holding his hands up to try to deflect her ire. "Whatever. Join Glee if you want, but you join Glee and Cheerios, okay? I'm not having my new best bitch getting slushied for hanging around with Lady Hummel and becoming Man Hands new toy to sway in the background."

"Well, I'll need to audition for both, won't I? When's Glee?" Harry turned to Kurt.

"We have practice tonight. You can audition then." Kurt looked between both Santana and Harry in ill-concealed annoyance. "I'll meet you at your lesson and walk you to the Choir room - text me where you are." The taller boy stood and stormed away.

"What did I do?" Harry asked Santana and Puck - the pair shrugged.

"I think it was Santana." Quinn interjected, moving around the table to sit on Harry's free side. "You're clinging on Kurt's new toy and calling him your new 'best bitch' - Kurt had him first. But, I guess it's also you, Harry. You're not defending Kurt from being called Lady Hummel."

Unbeknownst to the four, Mercedes had placed her phone - on call with Kurt - to hear the conversation.

Harry pursed his lips. "So I'm not allowed other friends? And I'm not Kurt's new toy, sweetie, we're friends who cuddle. Even if we've only had one cuddle so far."

* * *

Kurt listened, sitting on the girls toilet with his knees drawn up to his chest. "_Kurt should know that Santana calls him Lady Hummel - how can I defend him from it if he's been called it longer than I've been in America? Couldn't you call him Porcelain or something, though, Santana? Lady Hummel is shitty. Porcelain is soft and pale, like his skin._"

"_That's so gay_," Kurt heard Santana laugh. "_I like calling him Lady Hummel. I don't see the problem. If he has a problem, he should tell me._"

"_I wouldn't tell you if I had a problem with what you call me,_" Puck muttered, barely audible. "_He gets enough shit without you, Tana._"

"_I'll call him Porcelain, then._" Kurt could tell the girl was rolling her eyes and pouting. "_The things I'm doing for you, Harry._"

"_I don't know what you're doing, Harry, but he's been less of a bitch ever since you arrived._" Kurt stiffened. Quinn was _such_ a bitch sometimes. "_I don't know how you put up with him, I honestly don't._"

"_And maybe that's why all of your friends ditched you after you fucked your boyfriends best friend and got pregnant._" Kurt smiled. "_Maybe if you stopped bitching about others and tried to make some friends, sweet cheeks, you wouldn't have this problem._"

"_I don't know how you, as a new kid, can insult_ **_me_**!"

"_He can insult you all he wants, Tubbers. Mess with my boy, mess with me. Mess with my boy's boy, Lady Hummel, mess with me. Get it?_"_  
_

Kurt heard the sound of scraping - and then clicks as Quinn presumably stormed away. "_You should be a little easier on her, you know? She's carrying my baby!_"

"_And Kurt is quickly becoming one of my best friends, so maybe you should tell your baby-momma to suck it up, Puck._"

Mercedes ended the call, leaving Kurt to his thoughts.

* * *

His lessons were dull. There was no Snape to tease, no Kurt or Puck to verbally spar with, no Santana to flirt with him and Brittany was still under the impression that he was a wizard. Well, he was, but how did her cat know? He sighed.

The thought of Glee made his stomach turn. He didn't have crippling confidence issues, but his singing was sub-par and he could bet you one hundred pounds that Kurt was some singing God - he didn't want to embarrass himself. Kurt's friend Mercedes seemed to have it in for him, and he didn't really know anyone else. He forgot how much it _sucked_ to be the new kid.

He checked his phone and saw that he had a message - _What do you have now?_ _x_ from Kurt.

_I have no idea. The teacher gave us a quiz about celebrities and left - she has bottle blonde hair and a badly contoured nose. I think she's called Miss Smith? x _Harry replied.

_I know where you are. Wait for me, okay? I can introduce you to Mr. Schue and he can give you an audition. What are you going to sing? x_

_A Pink song, I guess. Funhouse? x_

_Funhouse is a good song (despite my personal feelings about Pink)! I don't think Mr. Schue will appreciate it, though. He prefers older songs. x_

_Ballsing hell. Um - the only old musicians that I know songs from are Tracy Chapman, Alanis Morissette, Morrissey and the Smiths. And the Doors. Help? x_

_If we go by your Sweet Transvestite, I'd say Morrissey or the Smiths. Jim Morrison is a little too slow for Mr. Schue to be comfortable. Do you know any Bowie? x_

_I know some of his stuff. The only thing I know word for word is "Magic Dance" from the movie the Labyrinth. x_

_Okay - Queen? Bohemian Rhapsody? x_

_I can totally do that! :-D x _

Harry triple tapped his phone and saw a box that said, "Music". He clicked it and a small bubble appeared, invisible to those around him. "Queen," he murmured into the speaker. Nobody turned around to face him. He scrolled through the various songs until he found "Bohemian Rhapsody" and played it on low, singing along. Again, nobody turned to face him - the phone had a built-in silencing ward.

The end of the lesson came about fairly quickly - he waited in his seat for everyone to leave before packing his things away, nerves building. He had to sing. In front of people. Who would be judging him. "Are you ready, Harry?"

Harry looked up at Kurt and gave the taller boy a soft smile. "No. I don't have crippling stage fright, but I _hate_ being looked at."

Kurt linked their arms together and walked towards to the choir room. On the way, they passed a dark boy and Karofsky - the pair hissed, "Ladyboy,"at Kurt. The pair ignored Harry.

"Boys!" Harry beamed, twisting from Kurt's grip and striding up behind them. His tone lowered significantly. "Pull that shit again, and you'll find some cocaine in your lockers, or maybe a knife - Hell, why not a gun? And you know what happens when they find hard drugs or weapons in schools, don't you?"

The dark-haired boy gave Karofsky a scathing look - the white boy nodded stiffly and stormed away, the black boy following behind. "Glad we had that chat, lads!" Harry shouted after them mockingly, returning to link arms with Kurt.

"Did you just threaten to plant illegal items on them?" Kurt laughed, his eyes glinting mischievously. "Why had I never thought of doing that?"

"Why don't they listen?" Harry asked in reply, unaware of a blonde women following them. "Honestly. It seems like David doesn't want to fuck any more." He turned to look at the rest of the corridor. "I'll get my people on ripping his dick off."

"Your people?" Kurt snickered; Harry turned around, a devious smile on his lips. "Are you a British Mafia kid?" Kurt recovered, straightening out his hair. "They never stop, Harry. I don't think a few threats from a cocky new kid will do much."

"But I nearly popped his arms from his sockets! I made Puck ran away with some choice words! I'm a badass cocky new kid!" Harry pouted. "My Godfather is a terror! I could have them in detention permanently with five minutes of flirting!"

"I really hope you can't get into the Cheerios," Kurt told him in all seriousness. "Hopefully Coach Sylvester hates Santana's boob job enough to tell her no. The two of you together would probably rule the school in under a day."

"I think you underestimate me, Porcelain."

Kurt let out a frightened squeak - Harry slapped a hand to his heart, sucking in air greedily. "Run along, Porcelain. I need to talk to the Bat's Godson on his own." Kurt was torn between running like a frightened puppy or staying to save Harry, but one snarl fell from Sue's lips and the boy ran away with a scream. "So, you're the Bat's Godson, huh? You don't look like much. Bad Boobjob put in a good word. Be at my office tomorrow, 5 A. M. sharp. Bring two quintuple espressos; one for you, one for me. I'll bring the baby tears as a sweetener. Change into your uniform - I put it in your bag when you had detention."

"But - you weren't there!" Harry squeaked, staring up at Coach Sylvester with wide doe eyes.

"And shave those curls off, for Christ's sake. That dead, beaten black midget Jew didn't have curls, so you can't either. You can't trust a man with curls." With that said, the woman stalked away.

"Can I straighten it instead? I'm pretty sure Jesus had curly hair, especially if he was a black Jew!"

"_Permanently! Uniform!_"

Harry squeaked again, bolting into the nearest toilet and changing his clothing within the minute. He slipped on the white, knee-high boots with a sensible heel; he had a feeling that Coach Sylvester was fucking with him or assumed he was a drag queen.

He clicked all the way to the choir room, slamming the door open. "Kurt, Kurt Hummel, sweetie, look what she did to me!" he cried, looking around for the taller boy's perfectly styled hair. "Red isn't my colour! I don't know how she knew my measurements - there's even red underpants! I'm pretty sure they're women's!"

Kurt strode over, away from a red-faced Rachel Berry. The taller boy enveloped him in a hug, one hand laying at the base of his neck and the other on the small of his back.

"You should be pleased, Harry," Santana tried to soothe, moving over to them and carding her fingers through his hair. "You're co-head captain with me, sweetie, and you haven't even tried out."

"What about the shoes?" Harry screamed into Kurt's chest; it wasn't legible, but Santana cooed and hugged his back, wrapping her arms around Kurt's shoulders at the same time.

"Coach says if we can do the routine in heels, we can do it in normal pumps a thousand times better. We all have them, sweetie, don't worry your pretty head about it. Yours are smaller than ours, so I think she'll be bumping you up tomorrow afternoon. Your Cheerio uniform screams 'bad bitch' and when it gets out that you're co-head captain, you'll be setting a trend for the boys to wear heels, okay?"

"Erm - guys?" Mr. Schue tried, pleased that someone had stopped Rachel from physically attacking Kurt about his comments, but curious about the new kid having a breakdown. "Can we - are you the kid auditioning?"

Harry shot him a poisonous glare beneath the huddle of arms and Santana's silicon. "Yes, I am." He shook himself, Santana letting go and giving him a tap on his bum, Kurt fixing his hair. "I'll be singing Bohemian Rhapsody."

He shook himself again, cracking his knuckles and wrists, twisting his neck and giving a satisfied moan when his spine popped. "I'll do the first six verses and we can go from there."

Mr. Schue nodded, gulping slightly. _If he starts to talk about my hair, Sue Sylvester has managed to hide a son from the world for fifteen years._ "Everyone, pay attention! Har - er, yeah, Harry, isn't it? Harry's going to be singing."

Harry grimaced, looking at Puck's amused eyes and Kurt, who was leaning into Santana to tell her to shush. He belted out the words, ending on a mournful, "_I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all_."

Kurt beamed, clapping loudly. Santana soon followed with a loud catcall, Puck stomping his feet and whistling. "You're being over enthusiastic," Harry muttered, blushing a brilliant red, no doubt clashing with his new uniform. "I was wank, wasn't I?" Harry laughed, shuffling his feet.

"You were brilliant!" Mr. Schue chirped, slapping him firmly on the back. "Welcome to the New Directions!"

"New... Directions?" Harry questioned, looking at Kurt. "Is that serious? Nude Erections?" Kurt snorted, covering it with his hand and crossing his legs. "You're not denying it. I am now officially a Nude Erection. God, I hope Draco doesn't come here..." He sighed, shaking his head. "Why couldn't we be something awesome, like - Phoenix Song or something?"

"Totally gay," Santana interjected, plump lips pulled into a smirk. "Come and sit with auntie Tana," she cooed, patting her lap.

"Can I sleep on your silicon?" Harry joked, bounding over and throwing his legs either side of her waist. "_Do you think bugs have ever gotten stuck in his hair?_" Santana coughed, nodding in acknowledgement of his joke. "Where's Brittany?"

"She's ill." Santana frowned. "I sent her straight home."

"Harry!" Kurt whined, finally pouting and glaring at Santana. "Sit me _meee_. I saw you first."

Harry grinned cheekily. "If we're being honest, Kurtiekins, your friends Mercedes and Tina-no-he's-not-my-cousin saw me first. You were just the only one ballsy enough to speak to me."

"_Maaaybe,_ but that makes you _mine_."

"I think he's mine," Puck grinned, leaning back in his chair and spreading his legs. "I'm the one he flirts with."

"Actually I flirt with Mister King, but whatever floats your boat." Harry pressed a kiss on Santana's nose and wriggled off, moving to sit, bridal style, on Kurt's lap and put his legs on Puck. "You can be my slave, if you want. Draco wasn't a great slave. I think you'd make a perfect sex slave, with your big brown eyes and those arms - "

"Guys!" Mr. Schue shouted, throwing his hands in the air. "Come _on_! This isn't a - an _orgy_," His nose crinkled in distaste. "Harry, get your own seat - "

"Oh, shut up, before your hands get stuck in your lard-covered hair," Harry hissed, the remark more scathing than he intended. "There's enough product in it to lather a cake tin."

Kurt burst into giggles, his chest rising and lurching as he tried to restrain himself. Santana and Puck had no such qualms, laughing loudly when Mr. Schue paled - even Quinn laughed.

"Are you related to Sue?" Mr. Schue asked, paling further when Harry beamed in pride. "Because if you are, you're out. That woman is enough; her spawn is too much for me to handle."

"You interrupted us for a reason, sir. What were you saying?" Harry asked sweetly, his mood doing a one-eighty flip.

"I was talking about doing duets. We need something new! Regionals are right around the corner and we need something new. Rachel has suggested we do our expected Journey songs but spice it up for our last number. Now, I'll just put everyone's name in the hat and you'll pull out a name..."

With that said, the man wrote out their names on a paper, including Brittany's, and started with Rachel. She pulled out the name _Finn_. She smiled dazzlingly at the confused boy. Santana rolled her eyes and leaned in, removing the name _Brittany._ Tina pulled out the name _Artie_. Harry fished around, using a wandless summoning charm to remove Kurt's name. Kurt let out a squeal and hugged him, bouncing up and down. Puck removed the name _Quinn_, but at that point Harry stopped paying attention.

"Now, the song has to be about love - any type of love, like unacquainted or overwhelming love, but only _love_. Not lust," He gave Puck a pointed glance. "It _will_ be the song, if you're chosen, that we sing at Regionals. Everyone will have a part in the song but the duet will get the focal attention. You have until Thursday."

Kurt tightened his arms around Harry, his breath soft in his ear. "We won't get chosen." The taller boy relaxed his grip slightly - Harry relaxed too, leaning in to his body. "I'm pretty sure he did this on purpose."

"Why won't we get chosen?" Harry asked, equally as quiet - he could see Santana leaning in to them to eavesdrop.

"Because you're with me. We're both men, having to sing a song about love. In this town... We'd lose straight away. We wouldn't be chosen _because_ we'd be singing a love song and we're both men." Kurt looked ready to cry, blinking blue eyes looking down at him. "You might have stood a chance if you were singing with Santana or something, but because you're with me..."

"Hey, hey... Calm down. He didn't say it had to be lover-love, you know? It could be family love, it could be animal love - we could do Pink's Who Knew, or Christina Aguilera's Hurt, or something like that!" Harry looked up, smiling warmly. "I don't think my vocals are strong enough for the good old X-tina, but we could definitely give her a go, right?"

"Christina it is," Kurt beamed. "I can handle her notes fine... _And_ rub Rachel's nose in my higher notes as well."

"What higher notes?" Santana asked, cocking her head. "Didn't you blow the high F when you and Man Hands went at Defying Gravity? Your voice cracked."

Kurt flushed. "I blew it purposefully," he admitted shyly. "I can hit a high F in my sleep. My dad had gotten a 'your son is a fag' call before I could intercept it - I thought singing a girl song would be the worst thing to do. I don't want him to experience that."

"That's bullshit," Santana sneered. "Your dad would get over the calls. I don't know why you're letting these shit heads get you down. Four, five years time? They're still gonna' be here, with babies they don't want, while you're going to be strutting it down runways or belting your lungs out on Broadway - and they're going to be forever stuck as a Lima Loser."

Kurt smiled, touched. "Thanks, Santana."

She nodded stiffly in reply, turning to the front of the room.


	4. Chapter 4

**Save All Your Kisses**

**AN**: Starting to think I should re-watch Glee. x'D Please forgive any errors, whether they be spelling, grammar or time/events. This is un-beta'd and I'm using the Glee wiki to help me along.

I really loathe the character of Blaine. Darren Criss is perfect and he has a beautiful voice and he's super funny and I love him so much, but urgh. Blaine makes me want to rip my uterus out so I don't breed an attention-hungry, Kurt-spirit-crushing little fuck nugget like that _(come on why would u ever cheat on Chris Colfer ffs no)_.

I'm introducing a new character to this. He's not all that important, but he plays a big part for Harry's character and bringing the war with Voldemort into his life.

scourgify and tergeo - cleaning spells

Sorry about the lateness of this omg. AS Chemistry sucks, man. I wish I'd stayed in my gap year ffs ah x_x;; Harry's personality: not bipolar, or split personality or MPD or anything - he's just an emotional wreck who can't remember why he's an emotional wreck. All gets explained, my lovelies.

* * *

"_Wake up, sleepy head! Get up, get up, get up!_" Harry snarled, a twitch of his fingers blowing the alarm clock to pieces. _Four in the morning_. Where the bollocksing Hell did he find quintuple Espresso's to go?

He shot into the shower, lathering himself in sweet-smelling soaps and washing his hair with vanilla essence shampoo - he dried it with a flick of his wand, neatly combed in an unmovable quiff and undeniably straight. He then placed a heavy glamour over his lightning bolt scar, covering it with Muggle concealer as a fail-safe. He sprayed himself heavily with deodorant, hoping that the woman would let him at least exercise. His towel was replaced with the Cheerios uniform and when he wiggled his toes, his socks crept up his feet so he could step into the boots. _04:13_ his clock read. "Kreacher," he called softly. The elf appeared with a quiet pop, bowing low to the floor. "I need two quintuple Espresso things from Starbucks to go, okay? Don't get caught." The elf disappeared with a large grin, happy to do some illegal work - even if it was stealing two coffees from a major business chain.

He slapped himself across the face a few times, incredibly grateful for magic. With a flick of his wand, his bag was packed for the day and with a loud crack of Apparation, he was at the front door, locking it. "Here, master," Kreacher bowed lowly, appearing behind him. Harry smiled warmly, thanked him, and took the cups with him to the car. _04:18._

He shot to school, smirking when he saw the red figure of Sue Sylvester stalk into school. "Coach!" he called, swinging his bag over his shoulder and holding the two cups in his hands. He kicked his car door closed, the door locking automatically.

She sneered when she saw him. "You better not be trying to win me over, Bambi. I purged myself of any oestrogen years ago - your innocent doe eyes and childish way have nothing on my steel core of preying on the fears of teenage girls until they develop eating disorders and stealing candy from babies."

Harry tried not to snort. "Not trying to win you over, Coach. I just thought I'd come earlier in case I messed your coffee order up." Her sharp eyes zeroed in on the cups in his hands - she blinked, an expression of brief shock running over her face, before she smiled smugly; it seemed like the coffee orders had... _Confirmed_ something for her. Harry didn't dare to think about it. "I didn't know if you'd want it piping hot or stone-cold or something, so they're both piping hot. If you want it cold, I'll take - "

"Stop rambling; I think the products you've used to tame your ghastly locks has gone to your head. Give me my damned coffee and go warm up or something - you're doing a full gymnastic circuit before I drill the routine into you. Sand bags says you're athletic - we're going to do a standing human pyramid and you're going to do a spinning flip to the top of the pyramid, understand? No wavering allowed. If the pyramid collapses, you will break your bones and I will laugh at you, before stripping you from the team. No... In fact, I will mount your head on a toilet seat and leave it to a necrophiliac homosexual. I will then give your headless body to a rapist and keep you warm to keep the streets clear if you mess anything up, do you understand?"

Harry nodded frantically, handing the woman her coffee. She took it with a smile and a slap to the back of the head. "You should be thankful I have an asbestos mouth and the boiling heat of coffee merely makes me aroused." She lowered herself down, glaring. "And if you tell _anyone_ I drink this putrid filth, the only way to identify you will be your horrendous curly hair. Not even Porcelain will recognise your disfigured British teeth."

"Crystal clear, Coach." Harry nodded his head again, feeling like the Churchill dog. "It's a little chilly, so..."

Harry blinked rapidly when the woman disappeared - he turned around and she was _nowhere_ to be found. "What the..." He craned his neck but the woman was literally _gone_. No sounds of Apparition... He shrugged, removing the lid from his coffee and took one deep swig, stiffening his shoulders and striding into the school. He was surprised that it was even open, but a woman like Sue Sylvester was terrifying - it was no surprise that she had been able opened the school early._  
_

He first stopped by her office, knowing she had said to be there at _05:00_ but he couldn't see her, so he walked to the gym instead. There he stretched, sprinted around the room ten times, stretched again and managed to finish his coffee as well. "Good!" the woman barked - Harry tried not to jump. She had a horrific ability to disappear or appear at a moments notice; he was tempted to ask if she was a witch, but that might get him in trouble with the Ministry if she wasn't. "I want to cartwheel around the room ten times with no pause, and after that you are to walk on your hands until I tell you to stop! Then you're going to put on these shoes," She held up white shoes like Santana's with an incredibly large heel on; he gulped. How was walking around in heels good for them? Surely it would strain their calves? "And you're going to run around the room _again_! Then we'll start on your high kicks, your tumbles - you're going to be my secret weapon, boy!"

* * *

His body ached. He was sure that his concealer on his scar had slipped from the amount of sweat pouring from him; he showered again, _Scourgify_ing his uniform repeatedly and finishing it up with an incredibly strong _Tergeo_.

He redid his morning routine, brushing his teeth and styling his hair, rubbing concealer into his scar - he stumbled slightly when he had to step back into the much-larger heels, but he managed it all right. "This is hell," he muttered sullenly, slowly hobbling out of the female changing rooms and trying to find his way to his locker. Students passed, giving him the strangest of looks; he snarled back. "Where the hell is my locker?" he whined, pouting. Even if the shoes increased his height dramatically _(from 5'8 to a crazy 6'1)_ some students still towered over him and blocked his view.

"Hello," someone greeted - Harry blinked up at the person speaking. He was tall, taller than him in heels. The taller boy grinned, holding out his arm for Harry to take. "My name's Charlie. I'm in the Senior year."

Harry took his arm. "I didn't ask, but thanks Charlie from the Senior year. I'm Harry and I don't understand the American education system - in British terms, I'm in year ten. By my Boarding School system, I'm in Fifth Year. I guess that's Sophomore?"

The boy laughed loudly, revealing pearly white teeth. He was incredibly cute, with side-swept curly black hair and golden-brown eyes. "Why are you walking around in heels, Cheerio? What's your locker number?" He was wearing a light blue button-down shirt coupled with tight jeans; people walked past hissing abuse at him, but he ignored it.

"Coach has some God-forsaken idea that if we can do our routine perfectly in heels, we'll be astronomical at Nationals in pumps. I guess my brief stint as Doctor Frank-N-Furter helped me out a shit-tonne," he muttered, ducking his head and nudging the boy to side. Green slushie fell where the taller of the two once stood. "Fuck off, you cunt," Harry snapped at the idiot with the second drink. "If any of that goes on me, you'll have Coach Sylvester on your back."

The person holding the cup bolted, knowing this was the new kid the rumours bragged about. If the boy now had the backing of Coach Sylvester _and _Mister King...

"How British are you! Chivalrous, too," Charlie winked, linking their arms again. "Darling, tell me, what's your locker? I'm now indebted to you." The boy blinked his pretty eyes, a teasing smirk on his lips.

"Very. This morning I had crumpets and tea whilst wearing a top hat and a monocle; a typical British morning," Harry said dryly. "I just know my locker is near Noah Puckerman. Have you seen that beast of a Sophomore with a mohawk?"

The boy nodded knowledgeably. "You're in the completely wrong place." Charlie began to pull him down the corridor, making sure Harry didn't stumble too badly; the pair were soon striding at the same pace. "So, Harry from Sophomore year, what do you like to do?"

"Well, I'm now a member of both the Cheerios and the Glee club." Charlie snorted, trying to hide his cheeky grin. "Mr. Schuester thinks I'm related to Coach, but I think Coach thinks I'm related to Schuester because she keeps threatening to give me a buzz cut. Coach Sylvester also calls me Bambi and the Bat's Godson." Harry shuddered. "I don't want to be reminded that I'm King's Godson, you know? This is the man I flirt with to get out detentions early!"

Charlie cackled, his eyes dancing in mirth. "Wait - wait, so you're related to Severus King? You're his Godson, and you flirt with him? And Coach Sylvester wants to shave your head?"

"Yes. He once dressed me up in a corset and ladies underwear and had me prance around the school. I'm allowed to flirt with him." The taller boy laughed harder, tightening his grip on his arm. "Tell me about yourself, Charlie."

The other boy blinked, not expecting the conversation to turn to himself. "Well... I take Sophomore French because I fail all the time. Do you take Sophomore French?" Harry nodded, smiling shyly. "Huh. I don't know why I didn't see you the other day... You sit with the other homo, don't you?" Harry stiffened, his eyes flashing in anger. "Hey! None of that. It'd be pretty hypocritical of me to insult a gay kid when I'm homo myself."

"Why do you say it like you're disgusted?" Harry asked softly, eyes bright.

"Because that's what I get told everyday." Charlie said simply, gesturing to a locker emblazoned with 'fag' 'homo' 'cocksucker'. "I guess this is you, huh?" Charlie smiled, shuffling his feet but keeping his head high.

"You'd think they'd be a little more creative, wouldn't you?" Harry asked, giggling. "Like - 'pillow biter' or 'anal assassin' or 'knob jockey'. Maybe I should give them a list of terms..." Harry gazed thoughtfully at the graffiti. "Do you have a pen? I want to write twink."

Charlie cackled again, wordlessly handing a black marker pen. "Thanks." Harry twisted his head so that he was horizontal, writing TWINK over the graffiti and so it covered the majority of his locker.

"Harry?" Puck asked, watching in bemusement. "Why are you writing on your own locker? It defies the object..." He trailed off, catching the words written earlier. "If I catch whoever did this, Harry, I'll sort them out for you, alright? You're my boy now. You're my bro from another hoe."

"Er - I'll go, then." Charlie nodded to Harry and Puck and scuttled away.

"Wait! What's your number?" Harry called after him; Charlie turned around with a wide, beaming grin, running up to Harry and taking the pen, writing his number on Harry's hand. "Thanks!" Harry shouted when the man ran away again. He shook his head, smiling sweetly. "He's a cutie."

"What about me?" Puck pouted, crossing his meaty arms. His expression softened. "Are you warm enough like that? Satan always complains about being cold in her uniform but she has a jacket - you don't."

Harry shrugged. "I'll be fine." As he spoke, he shuddered, a cold wind gusting down the corridor. He opened his locker, placing his bag at the opening and shoving in his textbooks. Puck made a snap decision and removed his letterman jacket, slipping it on Harry's shoulders.

"Keep it on. I'm a badass - the cold won't even fuck me with, you know?" He swaggered away, leaving Harry staring at him with a bright blush on his face.

* * *

Whispers followed him wherever he went. He was torn between blaming the shoes - he got a few remarks about them - and blaming Puck for giving him his jacket. "_Is he going out with_ _Puckerman_?" How did wearing someone's jacket mean you were dating them? "_I know he had sex last night. Look at how he walks!_" Did he walk funny? He changed his stride slightly. "_I thought Hummel was like, in love with him?_" He rose an eyebrow. _No, Kurt was in love with Finn_, he wanted to correct. "_I heard he slept with the Football team to make them leave him alone._"

And just like America's Founding Fathers, the jocks at McKinley High were _totally _closeted homosexuals. Harry chuckled to himself, kicking open the French room door, lips pursed. Kurt was sat at the front, filing his nails and smirking at him condescendingly. "You're just like me!" the countertenor chirped. "You're an evil straight guy converter!" With his bit said, he burst into loud giggles.

"Charlie, darling!" Harry beamed, ignoring Kurt for the meantime. "Come sit with me! Kurtiekins thinks it's okay to be mean to me."

The senior grinned widely, moving to sit behind Kurt. Harry sat down next to him, crossing his legs. "Hello again, Harry from year ten or Fifth Year, depending on the educational system. Oh, and self-confessed twink."

"Don't be like that, H-Harry," Kurt giggled, interrupting.

"_I thought Hummel was like, totally in love with him?_" Harry mocked, making his voice incredibly high-pitched and feminine. "_Heard he slept with the Football team to make them leave him alone! I **know** he had sex last night. Look at how he_ _walks_!"

Charlie laughed slightly. "I think you forgot the best rumour yet." Harry turned, one eyebrow cocked, a half-smile on his lips. "The one why you're hobbling," he expanded. "Gay foursome involving you as the bottom, Puck on top, Kurt in the middle and Mr. King as the dominant. Who knew you could fit three cocks up your shitter?"

Harry slammed his head down on the desk, bringing it up and slamming it down again. "It's too early for this, I swear. I wake at four, have Coach threatening to donate my dead, still-warm _decapitated_ body to a necrophiliac rapist, I have a quintuple Espresso shot for breakfast and then non-stop exercise from half four until eight. If people don't _shut the fuck up_ with these _rumours I will slaughter them!_"

Kurt and Charlie both began to roar with laughter when their French class became silent; Kurt gave a silent 'fuck you' to composure and began to lean, clutching his legs tightly together and resting his head on Harry's. "Hey - Harry, I haven't done your hair yet. You want cuddles?"

Harry lifted his head slightly, somehow managing to look the boy in the face. Their noses were touching and Kurt could feel the soft puffs of Harry's cold, coffee-scented breath on his face. "Can I have cuddles without you messing the quiff?"

"No." Kurt beamed, sitting up and leaning against his own table. "I'm sure... _Charlie darling_," Kurt snickered again. "Would love some cuddles. Noah, definitely, but Charlie would love some too, right?"

Charlie blushed but there was a pleased little smile on his face. Harry rose an eyebrow at Kurt, who rose a daring one back. Harry pushed himself up and pulled Charlie's legs to him, throwing himself on the boy's lap and wrapping his arms around his neck. Kurt pouted.

"Whose number is that?" Kurt asked curiously, looking at the marker on Harry's hand. He was shocked to discover _jealousy_ rising through his body, burning the tips of his fingers and his chest compressing uncomfortably. He tried to shake the feeling off, but his stomach did an unusual flip when Harry turned to grin at Charlie and not at _him_.

"Just this cute guy," Harry waved away his hand like it didn't matter. A small smile grew on Charlie's lips, barely distinguishable through his bright red blush. "You know, you don't look very hard for homosexuals in this school. I found Charlie here on day three." Harry wriggled slightly, trying to get comfortable. "And I'm pretty sure Karofsky was checking you out the other day. And; this rumour of me sleeping with the American Football team... Come _on_. Got to be a bit of truth there."

"'American'?" Kurt asked. "Is this because England calls soccer football?" Secretly Kurt was mortified. He knew nothing of the upper years - to find that the strange Senior who sat in on their French lessons was gay... It was a massive blow to his ego. He prided himself on knowing everyone and everything; and if this _Charlie_ thought he was going to take Kurt's place then - wait, _what_?_  
_

"You carry the ball around and then someone kicks it at the end - how the hell is that football?" Harry asked, quirking an eyebrow when Kurt didn't reply, opting instead to bite his lip in wide-eyed terror.

_I can't crush on the only gay guy who's shown an interest in me, can I? That screams desperation! _"Kurt?" Harry snapped his fingers in front of the boys face, his knees precariously placed on Charlie's lap - Kurt sneered when he noticed the other boy _blatantly _check out Harry's ass in those tight Cheerio trousers - one arm keeping him steady on the table and those emerald eyes about an inch from him. "What's wrong, sweetie?" _If I lean forward now... _Kurt tried to shake away the want to see if those lips were as plump as they seemed - he licked his suddenly dry lips.

"Nothing, Harry," Kurt tried desperately not to squeak. "Erm - we need to practice our number for Glee, so... cometominetonight?" His cheeks were boiling hot.

"Sure. Where do you live?" Harry asked softly, cocking his head in amusement. Charlie had a sour look on his face, while Harry's slowly became knowing and a devious glint appeared in his eyes. "Are we still doing _Hurt?_ I realise I never actually gave you a choice in that. I mean... We could do a love song. Have you heard of the band Ludo? They have this great song called _Horror of Our Love_... Schuester will shit himself."

"You mean the song where the guy loves someone so much that he wants to be 'one' with them?" Charlie asked dryly, shifting his legs and making Harry slide down, the boy catching himself in time. Kurt scowled when Charlie gave him a victorious wink.

"Yeah," Harry beamed. "He won't see that, though, he'll just hear; _I've murdered half the town, left you love notes on their headstones. I'll fill the graveyards until I have you._ And he'll hopefully burst into hysterical sobs and shave his hair off. I'm serious; that much product is _not_ good for his health... Or my already damaged eyesight."

"I've never heard of Ludo," Kurt smoothly interjected. "Do you have the song on your phone? We can listen to it together!"

"Oh, I do, I think!" He removed his phone from his bag, starting his phone up. He searched for an audio hole and couldn't find one. "I can't find an earphone port, but it doesn't look like the teacher is turning up, so... Come sit here, Kurtie." Harry pointed at his own vacated seat. "You can learn the lyrics for tonight, and then you can candlelight serenade me and then I can serenade you in Glee tomorrow while shaving Mr. Schue's hair off."

Harry was oblivious, naïve and very much innocent to the world of teenage boys, being as the only people he ever found attractive were Draco, Kurt, Charlie and Puck; however, he was not unaware of the glances his new favourite person was throwing at the dark eyed boy. Charlie was winding Kurt up, _accidentally _touching Harry's backside in clear view of Kurt, while Kurt was giving as good as he got with backhanded insults to the Senior and near-constantly touching Harry's hand, arm, leg or face. And it was starting to annoy him. Kurt was absolutely adorable and Charlie was roguishly handsome - but _God damn_ just because he was affectionate, it didn't mean he was going to fuck them or love them or romance them or even fucking _dine_ them! Sure, he played along, grinding his hips slightly when Charlie got particularly vehement or gazing at Kurt through hooded eyes, but it was _real fucking annoying. _He guessed that Charlie wanted some fun while Kurt wanted commitment...

And Harry wanted friends.

With that in mind, he kept the music playing and opened up contacts, clicking on Draco. Charlie choked at the image George had set for Draco but Harry paid him no heed, sending a message simply reading, _Draaaaaaco._

_**What's wrong,**_**_ love_?** Draco sent back immediately, making Harry incredibly happy.

_Speak French to me._

_**Why**_**?** Harry could see the confused eyebrow but the pleased half-smile already.

_Because the French teacher isn't here, I'm sat on a hot guy's lap and you know how excited your French gets me. Draaaaaaaaco._

Charlie coughed loudly, turning to the side like he _hadn't_ been reading over Harry's shoulder. Harry gave him a cheeky wink but let out a squeak when his phone began to buzz. "**Answer the phone, Potter!**" Draco's sharp voice rang out as his ringtone - Harry positively beamed when he clicked 'answer'.

"Hello, stranger." Harry chirped. Draco began babbling in French, Harry unable to understand on it. He was sure he heard the word 'want' several times but Latin really didn't help. "Are you... Are you doing what I think you're doing?"

"_Yes._" Draco said simply, before continuing on in French. "_Although my hand has nothing on you, Potter._"

"Wanky," Harry replied, wiggling his eyebrows at a blushing Kurt. "Are you nearly done? Oh! Guess what, Dray?"

There was a series of curses and Harry's name fell from Draco's lips. "_What?!_" Draco growled out. "_What? You nearly ruined that._"

Harry snickered. "I joined a cheer leading squad. You'll be coming to stay with me soon, won't you, sweetie? You've read those books I gave you?"

"_Don't come on Tuesday. Come to the Manor on Saturday - I have everything packed and ready. I'm coming to live with you as soon as I_ _can_." Draco paused._ "__Awesome. I'll have to ruin your uniform then - wait, are you wearing a skirt?_

"No!" Harry laughed. "Have you been reading those books?"

"_The American Founding fathers were that closeted they often had tea with Mr. Tumnus._"

"I didn't think you knew normal literature!"

"_I don't. I read it in an insult book._"

* * *

Puck was pissed. So what if he lent Harry his jacket? It didn't mean they were banging! Not that he'd mind - Harry the _best_ ass he'd ever seen, and he slept with Quinn, you know? He'd been all up in her and the sight was permanently etched in his mind - but Harry's ass in that damn Cheerio uniform was _the_ best thing _ever__. _It was so... Round. Perky.

Shit, was he gay?

No. He couldn't be! Not _gay_. All the women he'd nailed would be testimony to that - fuck, he'd gotten a girl pregnant, you know? He banged MILF's for _fun_ and - kind of money, but he wasn't a prostitute or anything, he really did clean their pools too. It's just... Over the winter, business wasn't booming and he has a baby to provide for, right?

But why should he limit himself to _women?_ Surely there were men out there, hiding in their closets with their fucked up kids and wives that cheated on them... He'd bet they'd pay, like, ten times more! His baby could have everything!

Was that gay?

_Was that prostitution?!_

No.

He was just... opportunistic!

But, shit did he need a wank. The tales of him supposedly banging Harry were just making him hard, but he just banged women mostly so maybe he was like, bisexual or something? Just the thought of Harry in that skin-tight Cheerio uniform...

Definitely needed a wank.

* * *

Santana beamed to herself, surprisingly chipper for someone who had just been turned down by Puck for a quick session in the janitor's closet. She was the co-head captain of the Cheerios and, while it kinda' sucked she had to share it with a boy who turned up on _Monday_, she was the co-head captain! Of _Sue Sylvester's_ squad!

If it weren't for little Quinnie, fucking with no protection - and seriously, had she not heard of the pill or rubbers or something because Puck _never_ pulls out - she would be some sassy, hot bitch who was being almost shat on by precious little Quinn._  
_

And now look at her.

Top of the pyramid, sharing it with one of the greatest fags she'd ever met; not that she'd admit it, but she'd met many fags in Lima. He was funny, sassy with the right amount of 'rebel' - it was a damn shame he liked cock, you know?

Although she still wasn't sure why Sue had grinned so brightly at the name Harry Potter, or asked if he had a lightning bolt scar on his forehead, or pure green eyes, if he had _I must not tell lies _carved in the flesh of his hand... But, she told the coach she'd look and check and _yes_ he was around 5'8 and his best friend's name _was_ Draco - and _yes_ he once had a boyfriend named Cedric but _no_ he didn't have a lightning bolt scar and _yes_ there was some shit about lying on his hand.

And she wasn't sure why she hadn't even tried the boy like she had Santana...

But it didn't matter, because he was a tumbler and acrobat and gymnast and _she was the top of the pyramid. _She was the shit! She just shared the shit with Harry... and she didn't mind it that much. But if he groped her and it turned out he was using this homo thing to get with her she'd go Lima Heights Adjacent _(even if she didn't actually live there) _all over his perky British ass and then fuck him raw. With Brittany. He seemed kinky enough, _and_ he cared about Britt! Nobody ever asked where she was - they always assumed she was fucking a guy or had gotten lost or forgotten how to use a door or chair or her legs... Where was she?

She was at the top of her game, and she had precious little Quinnie with her religious virtues against abortion; or just being hit in the stomach repeatedly until she bled - and little Harry Potter who liked cock with his strange, probably self-inflicted scar on the back of his hands and the prettiest green eyes she's ever seen to thank.

Not that she'd thank them.

* * *

Harry wouldn't stop bounding from lesson to lesson or poking Kurt until he laughed, or giving Charlie flirty smiles and subtle winks and when Brittany gave him a cherry red lollipop at lunch, well. They'd chosen to all sit in the choir room, _bonding_ like club members should. It just meant that Harry could squeak and squeal and bounce without losing his 'badass' rep - not that Kurt, Santana nor Puck told him that, though.

He was so excited! "Draco's coming!" He beamed, telling an incredibly lacklustre Kurt. He didn't know why the boy was so downtrodden; Draco was his best frenemy he often fucked. No strings, just pleasure and, if it weren't for the fact that they _fucked_, they'd probably be like brothers. "I'm so excited. Please don't provoke him," He turned big, watery eyes on Kurt who shifted, clearly annoyed. "You can chat about clothes and he sings really well, too. He looks like he sings bass or something but I'm pretty sure he can hit a high F, like you can in your sleep but threw because you're in a backwards town. I bet you can hit a high G, though, so I think you'll _love_ him because he's so competitive but you'll be better, which means presents for me."

Kurt made moon eyes at him, pouting softly. Rachel Berry let out an obnoxious squeal behind him; "What do you _mean_ he threw the no - "

"Lips, Man Hands. Zip them. Nobody cares about your questions," Santana spat, her hair bristling like a cornered cat would bush up its tail.

"Draco's coming!" Harry chirped, cutting in.

"Well, yes, you've told us that but - "

"LIPS!" Santana, Brittany and Quinn chorused, the two Cheerios surrounding the countertenor and stroking Kurt's hair and arms. Quinn wanted to join in, but she was no longer a Cheerio so she settled for smiling warmly at him.

"Now, Kurt," Santana began.

"Coach says that she wants to ask you," Brittany added, looking at Quinn; Kurt snorted. Obviously practised.

"If you'd like to join the Cheerios because Fat Patricia has broken her wrist,"

"_From shoveling too many chips_," Santana hissed angrily.

"_And_ we need another male because Harry has thrown the balance off. Plus, you could like, make out at Nationals and it'd be totally hot." Brittany sighed dreamily.

"Hey, Harry, can I paint your nails?" Santana asked, holding up his thoroughly chewed nails. "On second thought... Porcelain, sort these out for me. He's a biter."

"You're a _what_?" Kurt hissed, shooting up from his chair and ripping Harry's hand from Santana's grip. "Oh, Jacobs. These are disgusting! How can a gorgeous British guy like you have such horrendous nails?"

Harry looked up at him with a bright, pleased blush. "You think I'm gorgeous?" he cooed. "That's sweet." Harry then began to _fellate _the lollipop; Kurt knew he was performing fellatio on the sickly sweet because he was smirking and looking up at him with lidded, lust-blown eyes. There was hardly any green left, just the outer ring and dilated pupils. Kurt didn't even blush, so caught up in his task. He cut them all down to size, ignoring the soft sounds Harry made, his mind processing that they were lewd and suggestive but his nails were truly horrendous. "Kurrrt." Harry moaned, expecting Kurt to flip his shit.

He didn't. He filed them, clipped them again until they were ridge-free and soft. "Would you like square, claw or rounded?" Kurt asked politely, almost tempted to just round them off.

"Can you do claws?" Harry looked down at his nails - his nail beds were thick but his nails were quite short. "I mean, could you imagine? Just walking along and then _bang_, I'm a cat."

"Of course I can do claws. Santana, when I'm done with this hand, could you paint them silver and green? Like a silver explosion from the cuticle, fading into the green?"

_I think they think I'm a girl._

* * *

Harry threw on his tightest jeans possible, black with a slight shine like leather, tucking in his white dress shirt and clicking everything into place with braces. He undid the first two buttons of his collar, pulling it out and straightening it and then starting on rolling his sleeves up. He wanted to look nice but also effortless; he had two options. One, his dragonhide boots, which were a little flashy. Two, ankle boots that were steel capped but incredibly soft on the inside and out.

He ruffled his hair, allowing the sides to droop. He didn't want to be too together - charmingly messy was his calling. If he spent all of his time primping like Draco... It just wasn't _natural_. He preferred natural over hours-in-the-bathroom; while it was pretty and probably a hell of alot better than natural... Hm. Ankle boots it is.

That decided, he stuffed himself with a banana and an apple before getting in his car. Kurt had texted him his address just after Harry had arrived home - Harry shot back 'thank you'.

However, he would have been grateful for directions, because he barely knew where _he_ lived, let alone someone else. The GPS system in his car was no use - he didn't know how to work the bloody thing!

He pulled up a road that seemed right - his magic was certainly acting like it was right, dancing and leaping through the air, making it hard to breathe from being so heavy - and he was incredibly pleased when he saw Kurt standing in the doorway of one of the houses. He pulled in and shut off the car, giving himself a moment to _breathe_. They were just singing, sure, and Kurt seemed like the hopeless romantic who wanted his first time to be candle lit with rose petals and loving kisses, so he had nothing to worry about; but they would be in close proximity and they could only get attached to their friendship from here on out. He was also, assumingly, the first openly homosexual boy who had shown interest in him, and he didn't know if that would work with him or against him.

He slid out, smiling brilliantly at Kurt. The other boy looked fabulous, as per, but his hair was _almost_ scruffy. Like he'd ran his fingers through it from feeling too prim and proper. "Hullo," Harry greeted, his smile becoming a touch nervous. "Have you thought any about what we're going to sing?"

"Well, Christina Aguilera is _perfect_ for my vocal range... But, at the same time, I don't think Mr. Schue will choose our song anyway, so why don't we go with Ludo?" Kurt smiled welcomingly, gesturing to his home. He smoothed a piece of hair out of his face; Harry pushed it back, unthinkingly. "Ah - erm, come in! My dad has a date with Finn's mom, so he'll come in at around five and go get changed. Have you eaten?"

Harry followed the boy, admiring the homely feel to the countertenor's house. Pictures lined the walls, all but one containing pictures of Kurt. It was obvious that Kurt's dad loved him very much - he daren't ask about his mother. Once Kurt got a little older, she stopped appearing in the photographs. Divorced? Dead? He wasn't sure, but he wasn't going to press. As far as Kurt was concerned, _Harry's_ parents were alive and kicking about.

"No, I haven't," Harry replied, shaking off his distraction. "I had some fruit. We really to practise, though. Is Mr. Schuester always so... behind on things?"

Kurt chuckled, the sound soft and at the same time loud, leading him to the living room. "Yes. Sectionals was awful." He shook his head. "So... Ludo. How are we going to do this? You can do the opening, obviously, but there are no high notes."

"We can change that," Harry waved his hand, as if he was getting rid of the concern. "We can make it softer. Use the piano - I can play, so when you sing I'll change accordingly, yeah?"

"I think Brad will kill you," Kurt bit his lip in thought. "I have a keyboard. We'll try that."

Kurt scurried away, leaving Harry by himself. He hoped that Kurt's father didn't return when he was on his own; Kurt had flat-out asked him and hadn't even consulted his father on the matter. Is that what you did? Or was Kurt's dad incredibly lenient?

Kurt returned, holding the bulky thing awkwardly. "Do you know the notes?"

"I play by ear," Harry murmured. "I can't read music."

"Oh, really?" Kurt breathed, looking fairly awestruck. "I hope you're good, then. That's a good talent to have."

"Isn't it?" Harry beamed, removing his phone from his pocket and finding the song. He listened to it, nodding at some points. "Do we have to do the whole song? My memory is pretty damn awesome but I don't know if it'd be easier to record me playing the entire thing to remember, or just recording it and playing it in Glee. We don't have enough time to change the chords as well as write them down, and that's hindered by the fact that I can't tell you what the notes I'm playing are."

"I _can_ play the piano, too, you know." Kurt frowned. "Record you playing it and memorise it; the song has to be shortened to two minutes or so, but if you play it we can have the 'wow' factor."

"All right," Harry began to play what he _knew_ sounded right, changing it when Kurt shook his head. "All right. I'll play it through and record it. We can sing along, then, too."

"Right! You'll be singing the opening - none of that belting stuff you did for Bohemian Rhapsody. Soft. Whimsical. Melancholy. With a tinge of bitterness or regret. It's got to be _deep._"

Harry nodded, beginning to play. He slowed down slightly, just enough for Kurt to smile widely. "_I'm a killer, cold and wrathful... Silent sleeper, I've been inside your bedroom. I've murdered half the town; left you love notes on their headstones... I'll fill the graveyards until I have you._"

Kurt cut in, making Harry blink and shift his hands to the higher keys, still tapping out a slow, soft melody. "_Moonlight walking, I smell your softness. Carnivorous and lusting, to track you down among the pines. I want you stuffed into my mouth... Hold you down and tear you open, live inside you - _"

"_Love, I'd never hurt you,_" Harry smoothly injected, hands sliding to the lower notes before going to the higher ones again, giving Kurt a nod to carry on after him.

"_But I'll grind against your bones until our marrows mix. I will eat you slowly..._" Kurt smiled approvingly, liking what Harry had done. "Chorus together, okay? Speed it up a hell of a lot."

Harry did just that. "The bit after should be the ghost part; you sing up until the 'and bury me' part, and then I'll join in. We'll both sing the chorus _again_ but you've got to belt it out, okay? Show them your highest notes. I know it's hard because we've only had tonight to practice, so I know things like high F are going to be hell to reach without cracking - Circe knows Draco used to screech like a banshee - but we've got to try, right?"

"I'm always practising my high notes," Kurt admitted shyly, fingering his sleeve before stopping and straightening his shoulders. "The high F won't a problem."

* * *

Harry was bouncing throughout the day, eager for Glee. They'd had another run through in Harry's car at lunchtime, Kurt hitting his parting note brilliantly, and Harry knew they'd be excellent. Hopefully Mr. Schue would realise that.

When the final bell rang, he was the first out of the room but not the first in the Glee room. Rachel was already there, a wad of musical papers in her hand and a self-confident smile on her heavily made up lips. Harry didn't acknowledge her, choosing to sit at the back of the room and let his right leg bounce. The room filled up quickly, everyone surprisingly excited for this task. Santana bounded to him, tugging along an innocently smiling Brittany by her pinkie. Puck followed soon after, confidently sitting next to Harry despite not saying a word to him all of yesterday. Harry had placed his jacket in his locker, scurrying away before anyone saw him. He was curious about the padlock on his locker, instead of the usual number system that Harry had, but he didn't question it. The wizard perked up when Kurt entered the room, waving energetically. He pouted when Kurt sat in front, spidery hand moving closer and closer to ruffle that perfect hair.

Kurt _shrieked,_ standing and scowling at a giggling Harry. "What are you doing?" Kurt whined, carding his fingers through his hair to try and make it lay flat. "Do you know how long this took me?"

"You didn't wave back." Harry replied as if that was all the encouragement he needed. "I don't much enjoy being ignored, Kurtiekins, especially when I'm going to be serenading you into a gooey puddle in a few minutes."

Kurt sniffed like he'd smelt something foul, still smoothing down his stubborn hair. "It's more like _I'm_ going to be serenading you, Potter. We're going to maintain eye-contact throughout, do you understand? We're going to make Mr. Schue so uncomfortable that he'll _wish_ he'd never made this stupid assignment." Kurt sat down, crossing his legs like a woman and ignoring the pale boy.

Harry felt like he'd been slapped in the face. Stupid assignment? Harry had a lot of fun, actually, especially with their potentially sinister choice of song. Uncomfortable? Who the hell was uncomfortable by two boys looking at each other? Eye-contact to _make him_ uncomfortable? Not friends backing up friends... or, something? He pulled back, his good mood diminished. He really couldn't wait for Draco to come to him.

Mr. Schue entered the room, grinning brightly at all of them. "Hey, guys. Who wants to go first, then?"

Rachel shot up, dragging the much-taller and cumbersome Finn with her. "We do!"

Finn began to belt out a surprisingly good rendition of "Iris". Rachel jumped in after the opening line, pulling a face that made her look a little constipated. But _shit_ did she have a good set of lungs on her.

Everyone clapped when their song ended, although Santana was sneering and muttering under her breath in rapid Spanish and Puck was texting in his other hand. "Next?" Mr. Schue asked. "That was brilliant, you guys. I really felt it."

"I will," Santana sighed, standing up and pulling Brittany with her. Brad started - Harry felt his throat close, his eyes widening. "_As long as she needs me... Oh, yes, she does need me. In spite of what you see, I'm sure that she needs me._" Harry clapped the hardest this time, eyes glistening. Brittany wasn't a brilliant singer, but there was such an innocence and honesty to her singing that made it incredibly powerful and touching.

Puck stood next while Schuester gushed about Santana and Brittany. He swung a guitar into his arms and began to strum the melody to "Back to Black". Quinn had Harry in floods of tears when her own brown eyes welled with tears at the beginning of the song. "_He left no time to regret_, _kept his dick wet w__ith his same old safe bet_... _Me and my head high_, _and my tears dry..._" Harry, who had found out all the sordid details from Kurt, was left painfully touched by Quinn's sorrow and fear. He tried to stop himself crying before anyone noticed, but Santana's concerned eyes caught his own and he shrugged, smiling miserably. _  
_

Tina and Artie were both brilliant singers, but Tina suffered massively with a **fake** stutter. Harry was instantly reminded of Professor Quirrell, making him shift awkwardly in the red seat. He couldn't enjoy their performance, despite how pretty Tina's voice really was.

Kurt stood after Mr. Schuester stopped praising Tina and Artie, shooting Harry a look. Harry smiled softly at Brad who gave him a scowl, grudgingly moving away from the piano to let Harry take his place.

* * *

Puck watched Harry's and Kurt's performance with... something curling in his gut. "_I'm a killer, cold and wrathful... Silent sleeper, I've been inside your bedroom. I've murdered half the town; left you love notes on their headstones... I'll fill the graveyards until I have you._" Harry's voice was broken and soft, but his eyes held steady on Kurt's.

"_Moonlight walking, I smell your softness; carnivorous and lusting to track you down among the pines. I want you stuffed into my mouth... Hold you down and tear you open, live inside you._" Rachel let out a loud, sharp gasp at Kurt's high notes. He had dragged out the "you" into a high F - the very note he threw in his Defying Gravity audition. Puck's eyes flickered to the Schuester, the beast of a boy smirking when the man's mouth dropped open. Puck couldn't decide if it was for the note or the song choice, but the mohawked teen was amused. Puck was sure their song didn't sound right - sure, it was soft and stuff, but it had nothing on the original. And Hummel's high notes were stupid.

"_Love, I'd never hurt you,_" Harry cut in, Kurt's note still echoing through Harry's words. Puck felt uncomfortable by the raw emotion the dark-haired teen was showing, uncertain about why he was jealous.

"_But I'll grind against your bones until our marrows mix. I will eat you slowly..._" Kurt maintained his high pitch, although Puck didn't know if it was a high F or not. He amused himself by watching Berry's facial expressions - at one point her face was smug, believing she had the entire competition in the bag, but now she was pale and terrified.

"_Oh, the horror of our love... Never so much blood pulled through my veins. Oh, the horror of our love... never so much blood._" Their voices intertwined beautifully, Harry's soft tone backing up Kurt's high notes.

"_You're a ghost love, nightgown flowing, your body blue and walking along the continental shelf. You are a dream among the sharks; beautiful and terrifying, lit and restless... We dance in dark suspension._" Puck was sure male voices weren't supposed to hit such high notes. Did Kurt have his dick cut off? Puck looked at the boy's crotch; nope, he definitely had a penis. Rather large penis, actually - _what?!_

"_And you bury me in the ocean floor beneath you, where they'll never hear us scream..._" Harry's voice was louder now, cutting over Kurt, his fingers flying over the keys like they were nothing. Puck was fascinated - for a short boy, he had long, spindly fingers. The green and silver paint merely enhanced them, the tips a sharp claw.

_Harry moaned when Puck pulled out - he began to pound, and those sharp sharp nails dragged so wonderfully down his back and Kurt sucked a particularly sensitive spot on Harry's neck, one hand fisting his cock, the other tweaking and twisting his erect nipple. Puck smirked devilishly at Kurt's porcelain skin, covered in bite marks and angry red scratches, at those big hand prints on perfect hips, and his own tanned hand pumping his cock._

"_Oh, the horror of our love... Never so much blood pulled through my veins. Oh, the horror of our love... never so much blood..._"

Puck kept his eyes firmly on the ground, not ashamed of his erection but unable to face the two boys he'd popped it over.

* * *

"Well... that was... Brilliant, guys. Kurt... How...?" Mr. Schue stammered, looking between the two.

Kurt smirked, opting not to answer. "Next?"

Santana noticed Harry roll his eyes and watched as Harry stood, brushing past Kurt and picking up his bag. "Gotta' go," he said to Mr. Schue, leaving the room without another word.

Kurt looked a little upset, deflated, but anger boiled through Santana's stomach and she wasn't sure why. She was pissed off at Harry for leaving without saying goodbye to her or Brittany, and pissed off at Kurt for being so dismissive. Didn't he know a good guy when he saw one? She glared at him spitefully, leaning in her chair and crossing her arms.

"But... we haven't finished..." Mr. Schue nearly pouted, feeling dejected. They were good!

* * *

Harry strode through the bare hallways, slamming into Snape's door. "We have to talk, right?" He then put up a tonne of privacy wards and alarms, raising his eyebrow.

Snape nodded, pausing on his work. "We do. I want to see the Wizarding World for myself."

Harry bit his lips softly. "You won't like it. Dumbledore is dead. Voldemort very nearly won - Neville managed to decapitate his snake just in time for me to counter attack Voldemort's spell without dying by snake. However... Why are you here?"

Snape stiffened almost unnoticeably, but Harry hadn't won the war through sheer luck. He was smart, quick - every detail was noted and triple-checked. He knew that Sue Sylvester was a squib who subscribed to every wizarding newspaper in the world. He knew that a woman with the last name Fabray was a Muggleborn witch. Hell, he even knew that Figgins hired a man who was a known paedophile from a large donation. The headmaster thought it was hidden, but hacking an incredibly weak computer system was one of the few muggle skills that he thrived at. "I was... Dumbledore wanted to hide you, Potter. _That's _what he told me. He bought you a house - my house - and told me to scope out the area. When I arrived, he told me that no matter whom I contacted, they would not receive me or my owl-mail. I went to the American wizarding community - I was black-listed for smuggling Potions ingredients that I 'served time for'. I went to the Canadian wizarding community - I didn't exist. No birth records; I was a criminal. My magic was then stripped almost half-way by their head Auror and I was _forced_ to stay here. I can't leave Ohio or I'll be arrested and given the Kiss for a crime I didn't commit."

Harry was frowning in disgust. "I'll sort things out for you. I'll sue them all."

"See that you do, Potter."


	5. Chapter 5

_It's so peculiar seeing my dogs face as my picture here..._

* * *

Harry wished he knew more about the Glee club, because Santana's angry scowl and Puck's weary acceptance was confusing him. "What's happened?" Harry whispered, leaning close to the girl. "What's up?" They were sat in the choir room, waiting for Mr. Schue to show up.

"Schuester decided that we were 'all too good' because the ballot voting we did was split between me and Britt, and you and Kurt. You didn't get to vote, but I knew how gushy you were about Quinn's performance so I told him that you'd have voted for them. He pisses me off! Because his fucking precious Finchel didn't win we have to sing one of his shitty songs instead. Like, honestly, why not just say Man Hands and the Thick-as-Soup Giant have the duet because they have chemistry or some bullshit like that?" The girl said all of this in pretty much one breath, leaning against Harry by the time she'd finished. Puck nudged him with a slight warning in his eyes but Harry didn't know what _for, _which was incredibly unhelpful.

"It's okay, Auntie Tana." Harry murmured, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her even closer. "The product fumes must have gone to his 'living my dreams through my pupils' brain."

Santana laughed loudly, the sound muffled by his clothes. "Why aren't you wearing your uniform?" Santana pulled back, looking up at him with confused dark eyes.

"Coach says I don't have to practise today. Said something about my physical fitness being perfect and memory retention of the routine being brilliant." Santana gasped loudly; that had never happened before! "I'm pretty sure Professor King threatened her." Ah, that makes sense.

"Professor?" Puck grinned widely. "Professor King?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. For the really daring, call him Sevvie. He's scary when he's in threatening mode... Doesn't mean I like him any more, though." He rolled his eyes skyward. "What was wrong with Kurt?" he asked softly, worry blooming in his eyes. Puck scowled.

Santana immediately began to coo, ruffling his hair and pinching his cheeks. "He's a little ice-bitch who thinks he owns the world. You were upset about him calling it stupid, weren't you? Saying that two gay guys made people uncomfortable?"

Harry shifted. "He's not an ice-bitch, Santana. A little, I guess? Like, it was my first assignment and I had it with this awesome guy who's been perfect and brilliant to me, and he calls it stupid? Is he calling me stupid? The song? Was he upset? Was I too pushy? And, yeah! How the hell does two guys staring at each other make _others_ uncomfortable? Is it a small town thing? In Scotland, it was fine to see two blokes or three women groping and holding each other. It was fine. Does he think so little of his sexuality? Of _who he is?_"

"Wait, three women?" Santana choked, recovering and looking behind him, smirking wickedly.

"Well, yeah. Polyamory is encouraged because it means that the old families have more blood in their lineage." Harry explained, confused. He wanted to turn to see what she was smirking at, but she clasped his face in her hands and forced his head to stay.

"Old families?" Puck asked, leaning into the conversation and smirking at something behind him; however, the smirk was also tinged with interest... and was that _want?_

"Yeah! I'm from an old family, even if my name is common, and the Heir to another. Draco is the head of a _very_ old family - trust me, he'll brag and brag and brag and it's _all hereditary_ - and the mixing of the blood is preferred. If they want babies, they adopt a kid or choose a sperm-donor if they're female, a willing female if they're male. Same sex relationships are absolutely no problem... At all."

"That's enlightening," Kurt said, his mouth barely a centimetre from Harry's ear. If it weren't for Santana's tight grip on his face and her body pressed tightly on his own, Harry would have jumped and probably slammed him to the floor. As he was, he spasmed. "I'm sorry I made you feel like that, Harry." Two thin, pale arms snaked around his chest and a firm chest pressed to his back. "I found the overall assignment ridiculous; but only because I feel like we should be preparing for the Regionals without cock-and-bull duets that haven't happened. Obviously from the people here, you know that homosexuality is a big, fat whopping sin. I'm sorry." Kurt finished by nuzzling Harry's neck; Santana released him and Harry turned, wrapping his arms tightly around the other boy.

Mr. Schue strolled in, writing_ HELLO_ on the whiteboard and surrounding it in a bubble. "Hello," He pointed at the bubble. The room shifted awkwardly. "Hello?"

"Hello!" Rachel replied loudly.

"What do you say when you answer the phone?" Mr. Schue asked, smiling brightly. Harry released Kurt and the taller boy sat down.

"What up?" Mercedes said.

"Who dis' be?" Artie grinned.

"No, she's dead, this is her son." Kurt muttered; Harry's chest clenched. Puck quickly shook his head so Harry would catch it from the corner of his eye, so that he didn't say anything; Harry swallowed and settled down in his chair.

"O... kay. Alexander Graham Bell, inventor of the telephone, liked to say, 'ahoy ahoy' when he answered the phone. It was Edison who decided that 'hello' was a more appropriate greeting." Mr. Schue beamed at his newly imparted fact.

"Not that this isn't riveting, Mr. Schue—" Quinn started; the curly-haired man carried on as if she hadn't spoken.

"Look! I am really proud of what you guys did at Sectionals. But, as most of you have realized by now, it hasn't made a bit of difference in your day-to-day at school."

"I have a slushie-stained training bra to prove it." Rachel sighed; Harry gagged, much like Santana and Kurt.

"Fact is, we're going to have to be better, even more spectacular at Regionals. It's time for some reinvention, some new, New Directions. We need a new... hello. Here's your assignment for next week: come up with a fresh number, but it has to have 'hello' in the song title. All right?"

"So instead of finding a perfect song choice, we're going to sing hello?" Harry asked, disgusted. Mercedes rolled her eyes in annoyance, Harry bearing his teeth in response. "I'm just saying! Coach leaked your set list, right? And instead of being super-secretive and making the _perfect_ song choices, you're going to make us say hello in a damn _song?_ What about your competitors? Kurt mentioned Vocal Adrenaline—who were last years National champions and haven't lost a competition in three years—this is bloody serious!"

"Yes, that's all wonderful, Harry," Mr. Schue tried to calm the teen, "I'm glad you know so much, I was just going to say that - "

"It sounds better in my English drawl," Harry waved his hand like that was what Mr. Schue was going to say. "Yes, thank you, I know my accent is beautiful."

"You're not wrong." Puck and Kurt echoed, the pair turning to stare at each other in horror and confusion. Harry looked incredibly confused and torn.

"Er—right. _I think Puck has started the conversion programme_. _I repeat, I think Puck has started the conversion programme._" Santana burst into little giggles beside him, repeating his comment to Brittany. The blonde girl gasped.

"Is he becoming those silver men from Doctor Who?" She craned her neck to gaze at Puck in distrust, her blue eyes narrowed. "Touch my baby wizard and I'll sic Lord Tubbington on you. His heroin addiction has made him violent."

"That's the sweetest thing anyone has ever said for me," Harry gushed, leaning over Santana to link their hands.

* * *

Harry grumbled throughout the day and despite Kurt's assurances that Draco would be with him tomorrow, his mood was not shifting.

Until it began to snow.

"It's snowing, look!" Kurt gushed, pointing out of the window with his nail file. "I hope it continues through the weekend so the school is closed Monday!"

Harry watched in pleasure as the snow flakes got larger and larger, wishing he could play in it. The snow at Hogwarts made the school look beautiful and the Whomping Willow was always a fun thing to stand by if too much snow built up. "I hope so too..." he whispered, a wistful smile playing on his lips. "Hey, Kurt? Why doesn't Mercedes like me?"

Kurt stiffened, looking at him and hooking their knees together. "I don't think she doesn't like you, but she doesn't know you," Kurt said patiently, the slight tightening of Harry's jaw making him frown. "I don't know why she rolled her eyes today, and I'll talk to her about it. I want to be your friend, Harry. She has to accept that."

Harry smiled shyly, his fears assuaged. "I'm sorry. New place and I guess I latched on you, huh? I didn't think about your existing friends."

"Don't think like that!" Kurt admonished, taking Harry's calloused hand in his own soft one. He began to file Harry's nails again, sharpening the claws. "You know... Santana told me Puck... _got stiff_ during our performance yesterday," Kurt was a very slight shade of pink and his voice was low. "He seems to like your nails."

Harry gaped; Kurt smiled smugly. "Keep it up, Harry. What do you think of the new Glee assignment?"

Harry blinked, trying to wrap his head around Puck's... situation. "Erm... Unnecessary. He got hard from my _nails?_"

"I wish I could say what his fantasy was," Kurt sighed forlornly, lightly scraping the tips of Harry's nails so that the tips weren't so pointy. "Ah. Santana is throwing a 'we survived the first week of school' party tomorrow night, starting at six. Puck is buying the alcohol. Will you come? What with your friend arriving tomorrow..."

Harry looked pensive. Did he want to experience underage drunk Muggle activities? He grinned. "Well, Draco will need to settle in... And I can't leave you alone with drunk men," He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "I'll bring some of my favourite alcohol, as well. Make it a real party."

Kurt smiled back. "I think the only person eligible to take advantage of me would be you... And I wouldn't be getting drunk anyway. Come to my house before and I'll do your hair for you?"

"How would I get home after the party? I'm sure Dray would flay me if I left him alone all night." Kurt's chest constricted painfully, like the wind had been knocked out of his lungs. "Nothing like that!" Harry hastened to add, frowning slightly. "He has a phobia of being alone in the dark. If there's no-one else there to assuage his fears, he gets all panicky and can't sleep."

Kurt nodded, smiling slightly. Harry didn't need to expand, but he did anyway... It made him feel warm. "You could probably bring him too, you know." Harry shook his head vehemently. "Then I'll drop you off at home," Kurt promised, eyes shining. "On Sunday you can take me for coffee and pick your car up too."

Harry smiled brilliantly. "If I molest you and I'm drunk, you can't hold it against me."

Kurt choked on his own saliva.

* * *

Saturday morning dawned bright and early for Harry, who stepped into his Floo and called out, "_Ohio International!_" He barely made it out of the Floo on his feet, but he managed. He then waited patiently in line for the Great Britain International Company to announce their times for travel - he only had to wait another five minutes before he was spiralling across the oceans and lands themselves to Britain again. He managed to land gracefully this time, finding a free Floo gate and calling out, "_Malfoy Manor holding room!_" _  
_

Draco greeted him with an exuberant kiss and quick grope. "Hello!" He beamed, throwing his arms around the dark-haired boy and holding tightly. "I've missed you so much! I know it's only been a - what are you _wearing_?" Draco hissed, pulling back. "Are you seriously wearing _white socks with black shoes?!_" Draco roared, pointing his wand at the socks and turning them black to match his pumps; he also changed the navy blue button-down to a light silver one, making his jeans a pale grey. "At least you're wearing your _Jacobs_ watch I bought you."

"It's women's," Harry offered blandly, looking the much taller boy up and down. "You haven't been eating well." It was a sad observation: Draco shifted and shuffled his feet slightly. "Nor have you been sleeping."

"Daddy's trial took a lot from me," Draco admitted shyly, hiding his face in his hands. "It's wrong of me to sentence him, to drive the hammer into the nail... But he did so many bad things, Harry." Harry remembered - his repressed memories allowed him brief snippets of what Lucius Malfoy, right-hand man of the Dark Lord, could do... But Draco knew _everything_. He had to relive it - he didn't have Harry's damaged brain that was more of a blessing than a curse. He had only the past and a daunting future. "And I just - gosh, I don't know what to do!" He sobbed slightly, but Harry made no move to comfort him. It would make Draco angry.

"Severus Snape is alive." said Harry once Draco had stopped crying and stared at him with eager blue eyes; eager to leave, to start anew. "Dumbledore forced him into the Muggle world and he's had his magic stripped heavily." Draco paled, but he took it in stride. "Come. The journey is tiring. I will invite Snape to my home tonight as I am... otherwise occupied, and he will stay with you through the night. The contact will be good for the pair of you."

Draco followed behind dutifully, echoing Harry's shout into the Floo, everything he owned in a satchel on his shoulder. Every last knut, scrap of clothing, memory... All packed in one bag. Draco found it incredibly poignant. Everything he was, amounted in one bag - sure, the bag was expanded to the very last expanse, but...

Everything he had was insignificant enough to fit in one small bag, to be transported across the oceans with _him_ - almost like demons that crooned in his ears ad he couldn't let them go.

"Have you made any friends, Harry?" Draco asked politely, eyeing the amalgamation of witches and wizards in disgust. It seemed so... foul, that these _vermin (for they were surely vermin, with the way they scurried like ants and went about their every day life as if nothing had changed **oh and how everything had changed!**)_ had not died in the place of people like Nymphadora Tonks or Fred Weasley _("Go! Malfoy, just go!" Fred had screamed, covering Draco on all sides, Draco sharply flying upwards as light left the Weasley's eyes - and the lovely Metamorphagus who had taken on his form in front of the Dark Lord and accepted his punishment)_ but then - oh, then he thought of little Teddy Lupin, who would never know his parents and he swallowed. How many of these people had family? How could he truly wish they died, when they were trying to regain their normality?

"Yes," Draco felt a horrible twist of jealousy from the smile in Harry's voice. "Kurt Hummel, Santana Lopez and Noah Puckerman. There's another... Charlie, his name is. He is so very different, Draco, and there's a sadness in his eyes I've never experienced before. Alas... Kurt. He was the very first person I'd met; he swanned up to me in similar attire to myself and it almost seemed like fate, you know?" Draco swallowed again; Harry knew nothing of mates or grounding mates, seeing it only as polyamory - and Draco hoped and prayed to every Dark deity he knew that Kurt was not a prospective mate nor grounding mate. "He was so confident and sassy," Harry carried on, snickering. "And Santana... Well, she's a definite firecracker. I didn't like her to begin with, but somewhere between beating up a thug double my size and staring at her familiar beauty, we kind of... clicked, you know? I've got her searching her family tree, to see if we're related or something, because she's so similar in appearance to..." Harry couldn't put a name to a face, but he saw a flash of dark, curling hair and a wicked cackle and a roar of '_Crucio!'_.

"Erm - Puck. Noah Puckerman." Draco could _feel_ Harry's desire. "A brutish thing - he was lovely when we first met, but then I saw him put Kurt in a dumpster," Ah, tell-tale pricks of red anger bloomed on pale cheeks. "I got him to apologise, of course, but he popped a stiffy over my nails the other day," Harry chuckled, holding up his sparkling nails for Draco to glower at. "Kurt wants me to play with him, tease him a bit..."

Draco sneered, opting not to reply. He would get a feel for these Muggles and, if he didn't like them, he would warn them away from Harry. For as much as Draco detested Potter, he loved him just as much. He was the boy Draco had lost his virginity to - and vice versa - and the boy who had comforted him when something had pelted him with snowballs at the Shrieking Shack, who had held him when Buckbeak clawed his arm so strongly and made him so pathetically _weak_, who stroked his hair when his Godfather had been pronounced missing...

Harry sighed like Draco's silence meant nothing to him. "The Portkey will be ready now. I'll track down Snape, you two can catch up, do your shit... I'll crash at Santana's or Puck's or Kurt's or something. Use the time wisely, Draco."

They latched to the Portkey like a lifeline - their traded look was one of excitement, of the prospects of the future... and absolute terror of the unknown.

They landed roughly, Draco managing to hold himself and Harry, ushering the dark-haired boy to the Floo. "_Bambi's Den!_" Harry called out, grinning at Draco as green flames licked his feet and body. Draco followed, rolling his eyes all the while, barely managing to land upright. "Right. I'll go find Snape. Go make yourself at home."

Draco looked around in disgust, his wand already out and making rectifications. Harry just grinned, Apparating and following Snape's weakly pulsating magical signature.

His house was well protected - Harry presumed he was in a dungeon or oubliette, the wards faltering and relocating from his efforts to shred them to pieces. He had managed, partly - the strongest wards were ripped to shreds. He was told his magic had that effect, although he wasn't sure why. He couldn't remember.

"Potter!" Snape snarled, his feet light and soft and his voice soft and at the same time scared. "What are you - how did you destroy my wards?"

Harry gazed back dispassionately. "Draco is at my home and would like to see you. Your wards are incredibly weak." Harry stood, unaware of the red gleam in his eyes, the ring of his pupil changing only slightly. Severus Snape had been in the Muggle world for too long to notice it; but what would he do if he knew that - _stop._ His thoughts locked down tightly, memories burrowing further into his mind. "Hurry up. It's around three o'clock and I have a party tonight."

Snape grit his teeth, unlocking the dungeon door and letting the boy out. _My wards are not weak. _Snape wanted to rip his hair out in frustration. _Dumbledore put the damn things up! How am I supposed to throw them back up when I can barely cast the Cruciatus curse?_

Harry seemed to read his thoughts, throwing up _Dark_ wards, promising harm to anyone who ripped through them like Harry had done to his older ones. Grudging respect blossomed in Snape's eyes as Harry held out his arm. "Side-along," Harry explained. "You're not keyed into my wards and I'm hidden by the Fidelius Charm. Only Muggles can see my home, and even then there's an illusionary spell to make them question if it's even there." Snape sneered and took the proffered arm, feeling the uncomfortable squeezing of Apparition and then he was in a house that _exuded_ magic. It was unnatural! It was as if the very walls themselves were built with Harry's tumultuous magic, switching between loving Light magic and crooning, addictive Dark magic, at once at war and in harmony to give shelter. "I made the house." Harry said, eyes lit in amusement.

"Are you reading my mind?" Snape asked before he could stop himself, cursing not a moment later.

Harry pouted softly. "Relax, Severus Snape, my dearest God-daddy. What _has_ gotten into you? You're acting like I'm going to hurt you. What is the matter?"

"Nothing," Severus breathed as the Dark magic flickered away. "Tell me, where is Draco? I much desire to speak with him."

Harry rolled his eyes, kicking off his pumps and striding up a set of stairs to the right of the house. Severus looked around briefly, noting black marble floors that practically stunk of Dark magic, with clean, glistening grey-bricked walls. The right wall was a blank white, littered with portraits and pictures alike. Severus breathed deeply, removed his shoes as elegantly as he could, and followed the Boy-Who-Lived. He felt like a newborn kitten with no mother; and perhaps it was true. Harry Potter, the boy he saw every day in flashes of mundane lessons, laughing with Muggles and putting them in their place _(the thought daunted Severus)_, had managed to destroy the Darkest being to ever roam Wizarding Britain. A man of seventy years under his belt - sixty years of hard, tortured learning to become the very best, the very strongest... And this little runt of fifteen and a half years, four years of education under his belt, had managed to destroy that brilliant, crazed man. Had managed to rip through the strongest wards Dumbledore knew with nought but thought running through him.

And he felt sick. It was unnatural. It was wrong. It was...

"Draco?" Severus whispered, staring at the golden-skinned, scarred blonde man in bewildered bemusement. He was incredibly tall at 6'3, with a thickly muscled body and a Chelsea smile. His hair fell in front of his eyes, so different and yet so similar to how he'd kept it as a child, floppy and untamed. Severus ran his eyes down his body; Draco was missing a chunk of flesh from his left wrist, and his arms were covered in burn scars that Severus assumed extended across his chest. "You - oh, you've grown so much, my little prince..." Severus whispered, taking one long stride forward and pulling the young man into his arms. "So beautiful!" Severus gasped, pulling back and tugging Draco's face to him. "Oh, your eye..." One eye was a sickening, glossy white while the other was the same cerulean blue Severus remembered. "I'm sorry." Severus said sincerely, paying Potter no heed as the boy stepped out of the room. "I am so, so sorry, my little prince."

* * *

Harry smiled slightly when Snape had no qualms about touching Draco: most people shied away from the red scarring on his arms and the deep grooves in his face, including his own mother. To see Snape so readily embrace him... He was glad. Hopefully the Potions Master would be able to make a potion for the scarring; the various Mediwizards at St. Mungo's all refused to see the Malfoy Scion and the wounds that would have been so easy to fix, were left to scar. He left, clicking the door shut behind him, and tapped on the door that led to his own room.

His door swung open, his magical signature recognised. Paranoia had become his best friend during the war, saving his life on more than one occasion _(not that he remembered it)_ and it had come through in his ordinary life as well.

He gazed around his room, a frozen white with dark, navy blue trimmings; it seemed to breathe life. Dark vines grew across the ceiling, holding up little balls of light that twinkled and danced like little fireflies or Faerie; and the bed itself hung suspended in the air, held up by thick branches that made up the frame, covered in soft fabric that hid the majority of the bed from view - and subsequently, anyone on it. One of the walls was composed entirely of glass, overlooking their average sized garden. Harry had already planted trees and shrubbery to make the garden blossom, but the weather wasn't right yet; there was a thin smattering of pure snow covering tiny plants and lifeless trees.

He beamed, pleased with his room. It had been a spur of the moment decision to change it but he was pleased he did; normal Muggle rooms were so _dull_. He wanted to be extraordinary in his choices, just once.

He flicked his wand, his wardrobe doors flinging open and different sets of clothing shooting out; he immediately dismissed red or bright clothing, opting for more dark, subtler tastes. He settled for black jeans, a grey button-down and a black jacket. Not too dressy, nor too down-played. He waved his hand and a small satchel flew into his hand, two bottles of Firewhiskey and a bottle of elf-made wine hidden inside.

_What time should I come to yours? xx_ Harry sent to Kurt, nervously fiddling with his hair. He was torn between leaving it curly or magically straightening it; but it depended on what Kurt wanted to do.

_Now, if you can. xx_ Kurt replied within a minute, somehow managing to send worry through a text. Harry grinned, bolting out of his room and shouting, "Be back in the morning!" to Snape and Draco, locking and double checking his wards. Pleased, he got into his car and pulled out, one-hand sending back, _On my way :-) xx_

He followed the drag of his magic again, grimacing slightly when Kurt wasn't outside to meet him again. That meant he had to knock: that meant there may or may not be an angry, over-protective father waiting on the other side. He steeled his nerves and pulled up, leaving his satchel in the car _(that would be hard to explain away!)_ and knocked three times on the door.

The door swung open, revealing a bear of a man holding an unloaded shotgun. Harry gulped, plastering on a tiny, sweet smile. "Hello, sir," The man's grip tightened on his gun. What did he say? '_I'm here to get your only son drunk_'. His uncertainty must have shown on his face, because the man gave him a gruff nod.

"Name's Burt. You?" The man stepped back slowly, Harry not letting himself budge into the house. The man looked him up and down like a hawk, although his eyes were transfixed on his messy bed-hair; Harry could practically hear the mental tutting the man was doing.

"Harry, sir. Harry Potter."

Harry seemed to have passed some test, because the man shouted, "_Kurt!_ Your British friend is here!" The man then strolled away, leaving Harry standing at the door. He daren't step in!

Kurt appeared from seemingly nowhere, "Hi! Come in, come in!" Harry smiled warmly, stepping into the house and closing the door softly behind him. "Dad had his gun, didn't he?" Kurt chuckled, Harry nodding nervously.

"It was unloaded," Harry muttered, shuffling his feet. "It was sweet, though." Harry grinned when Kurt huffed. "Oh, come on. Could you imagine if you brought home your first lover and your dad just stared, stroking a loaded gun?" Harry giggled when Kurt stormed away; he followed, continuing on, "Just staring. I bet you, they'll high tail it out of here. And then they'll have me to get through, of course."

Kurt groaned, hearing his dad's barely muffled laughter. "I don't think my dad has it in him to shoot someone."

"Oh, I bet he does," There was a sinister tone to Harry's smooth voice. "What if someone got in to your house? Parents do anything for their kids, Kurtiekins."

Kurt threw his hands up in exasperation, pushing Harry into the door that led to his basement. "We're not talking about this. No one would get into my house!" he huffed, following the smaller boy down the steps.

"Fine," Harry clearly disagreed, pointing at his window before letting his hand drop.

"You have a lovely bedroom," he gasped, looking around. Everything was... soft. He expected bright reds, greens - but everything was muted and pastel, with looping fabrics that fell from the roof and were fixed to the wall. "I expected reds. Passionate colours, you know?" Kurt let out a tiny noise from the back of his throat, his face reddening. Harry gave him a puzzled frown but didn't comment. "Um, Severus is staying with Draco tonight, so I'm not needed at home at any set time. It's all on you tonight."

Kurt beamed, clapping his hands together and pushing Harry down on his vanity chair. "Do you want to stay over? I can go ask my dad!" Without waiting for a confirmation, Kurt bustled up the stairs. Harry blinked in confusion, looking around the room feeling incredibly awkward. Kurt appeared at the top of the stairs, obviously victorious. "My dad says you can!"

Harry snorted; it escalated into loud chuckles before he calmed himself down enough to speak. "Guess I can't molest you, huh?"

Kurt shook his head, grinning widely, his eyes lit in joy. "This is my first sleepover! My dad's always worried that people will put my hand in water or something."

Harry tried to smother his laughter, but a tiny squeak left his throat. "It must be wonderful to have your dad be so concerned," Harry smiled, fidgeting. "Now, come on. We have to get our party on."

Kurt nodded, bounding around his room and finding a pair of hair straighteners. "Oh, Harry," Kurt shuffled. "You know when Britt asked if you had a lightning bolt scar?" Harry paled and groaned. "So _it is_ there!" Kurt said, attacking his hair with a comb and the flat irons.

"Yes, yes it is. No, I'm not a wizard," Kurt snickered. "I got it in a car accident when I was younger. My mum and dad had gone to a party, one thing led to another, car spiralled - they died instantly, a piece of metal carved the lightning bolt into my forehead. Looks pretty snazzy, though, right?"

Kurt looked at him with wide, tearful eyes. "Your parents are dead?" The boy continued to straighten Harry's hair, but his hands were slightly shaky.

"Yeah. Don't think about it, though. I was only a baby so I never really had anything to miss." Kurt tapped his head sharply with the end of the flat irons. "Hey! It's the truth! I can't remember them. I don't know them. They're dead. It's the way it is."

"That doesn't make it any less sad," Kurt frowned, combing Harry's hair to cover the scar. "My mom is dead too. She died when I was eight."

Harry found Kurt's thigh and squeezed tightly. "You don't have to talk about it if it will upset you. You have memories to remember her by, which is just... awful."

"No, no, it's fine," Kurt laughed through his nose, concentrating on his task so that he didn't cry. "She was beautiful. After she died, I tried to help my dad by packing some of her things away, and I spilt a bottle of her perfume... The carpet underneath his wardrobe still smells of it."

They were silent for a while, until Kurt muttered, "Done!" and sprayed Harry's hair with hair spray. Naturally, it began to curl in defiance, a tiny piece sticking up. "I give up." Kurt declared, clicking the switch down and turning the straighteners off. "Santana is an emotional drunk. Britt is a stripper drunk. Puck is a sexual drunk. Quinn won't be there because of the baby, surprisingly, but Finn will be there and he just... sits there. Mercedes and Tina will be there, and I think they may be normal drunks. Giggly. Artie is a black guy when he's drunk. Rachel is a very happy drunk. Mike and Matt... I don't know. _I_ will not be getting drunk." Was it weird that Kurt knew that? But, then again, to Harry, it must seem like they'd all been to one of Santana's parties before; like they were all _close_. It was obvious that Santana was trying to win Harry over: or, at least, win _someone_ over. Why else would she try to present a united front? She'd even told him she hadn't invited Harry and if he wanted him there, Kurt would have to ask himself.

She was definitely trying to win Harry over, Kurt thought angrily. That _had_ to be it.

Harry smiled in amusement. "I'm a sexual, aggressive drunk. I think. I normally wake up with a sore arse and a sore head, so I reckon I'm an aggressive sexual drunk."

"May Gaga have mercy on my soul." Kurt gasped, pinking slightly. He was hoping his status as the frigid, homosexual, virgin _Queen_ of McKinley High would never out to Harry, but it would only happen if Kurt pretended like he wasn't, right? Why was he so fussed? He'd never let it bother him before...

Harry snickered before they were left in silence, the taller boy leaning over Harry and fluffing his own hair out, slicking it down. Harry wanted to brush it back out of his face; wild, untamed, but Kurt was pulling it up into a loose quiff, making Harry pout. "And... done!" Kurt muttered, tongue flicking the corner of his mouth. "Do I look beautiful, or do I look beautiful?"

"Incredibly beautiful," Harry said shyly, ducking his head when startled eyes met his own. "Oh, piss off. You're a very beautiful and attractive person, all right?" Harry's hair shifted, revealing the tip of a bright pink ear. Kurt blushed harder, coughing and moving over to his closet.

"Thanks," he whispered, smiling beautifully when the other boy couldn't see him. "Will you be warm enough?" Kurt asked louder, throwing the wizard a glance over his shoulder. "We have time yet, but I'm going to cook dinner so you don't get outrageously drunk or something." Kurt found his Gucci peacoat and threw it over his arm, turning to face the dark haired boy.

"I reckon I'll be fine," Harry's voice was tender, not recovered from his brief fluster. "The snow has calmed down a bit and I always have you to cuddle," And there returned his British charm, Kurt thought wryly. "Kurt?"

"Yes, Harry?" Kurt placed the coat on his bed, looking around his room for anything he may need. He found a too-large shirt and two pairs of sweats, finding a black satchel to go with his rather formal attire and shoved the clothing into it, if Harry puked or Kurt somehow ended up covered in bodily fluids. "What's wrong?"

"Thank you," Kurt's head shot up, surprise in his eyes when he looked at the shorter boy. Harry was looking away, his lips in the cutest pout Kurt had ever seen and his eyes downcast, dark lashes flush on reddened cheeks. "For everything. I know it probably sucked that I latched on you so much, and I'm sorry if I've been a burden or affected your other friendships in any way or - "

Kurt was across the room in seconds, throwing his arms around the smaller boy and silencing him. "You don't have to thank me for being your friend, Harry. You didn't 'latch' on me, and you most _definitely have not_ been a burden. You're the first **male** person I've met and befriended properly, and that is not an exaggeration! You're the only male friend I have who willingly touches me - even Mike avoids me, if he can. People don't like homosexuality here, but you told me flat-out I was to be your cuddle buddy. I don't think you realise just how that made me feel, Harry. It was... Lovely. Absolutely lovely. You tripped people who tried to shove me or trip me, the slushie facials have died down and you've tried to make Noah _and_ Karofsky step down in bullying me. Noah and I get on so well now, and _Gaga_ you've even managed to get Santana treat me with kindness! Sure, she calls me Lady Hummel when you're not there, but that's a massive improvement. And don't even get me started on Finn," Kurt joked, tightening his grip.

"In no less than a week, you've twisted my 'thing' for him entirely. I swear I'm still crushing on him, but it's kind of pointless, isn't it? He's hopelessly in love with Quinn, despite her being a floozy, and Rachel is starting to get her claws into him. And _you_ have made me realise. Sure, it hurts, but how much worse could it have been if he'd said something to deliberately upset me, or got my hopes up only to crush them, or worse - Quinn attacking me because of it? I've already slushied myself for him. Those corn-syrup induced tears will be the last tears I shed for him." Kurt vowed, pulling back and down, pressing a kiss to Harry's nose. He relished in those eyes widening and the blush darkening, hoping that this beautiful, wonderful boy would lose his interest in Draco and Noah _(and hell, maybe even Charlie!)_ and only have eyes for him.

Harry didn't know what to say, biting his lip and praying his eyes weren't watering. "Thank you. That was incredibly heart-wrenching and I'm trying not to bawl," Harry said, wiping under his eyes surreptitiously. "Awesome." Harry laughed, making Kurt laugh too. They shared a shy but fond look, separating.

"I'm going to go make some dinner now, do you have any preferences? I can do healthy or disgustingly unhealthy, your pick. I'll be having healthy, of course, my dad will be having unhealthy..."

"Healthy, definitely. It makes for interestingly coloured puke." Kurt scowled in disgust. "I'm serious! Everything normally just looks like a mix of carrot and stomach lining, but when you add a little red pepper or sweetcorn to the mix..."

* * *

Santana was already hopelessly drunk when they arrived, greeting them both with rumbustious kisses and a thimbleful of drink landing on Kurt's shoe. Kurt blanched and threatened, "I will get in my car and _leave_ if you do not get me a wipe!" to a giggling Harry.

Harry wiped the drink away with his sleeve, leaving the shoe gleaming. "Is that better, my little prince?" Harry grinned cheekily, standing up.

Santana let out another yell, vaguely gesturing for the two to follow her. "Me and Puck," she said, giggling and taking another sip from her bottle; Harry guessed it was an alcopop, bright blue but barely alcoholic. "Have been drinking since - since - since three!" she chirped. Her expression became incredibly angry when they entered what Harry assumed to be the living room, and Santana shouted something in Spanish. "_Brittany! Off the table!_"

Brittany hopped off neatly, still grinding her body to the music. Harry gazed around, overwhelmed. Wizarding parties were civil compared to this; Artie was trying to force his tongue down Tina's throat and she was torn between taking her heavy, dark clothing off or putting a stop to it, while Mercedes sat with a relatively sober Rachel, the pair of them texting and taking breaks to speak and sing. Puck was nowhere to be seen, nor were Matt, Finn or Mike. Santana and Brittany were now kissing, Brittany grinding and rutting and making some incredibly strange sounds that were a cross between moans and... Algebraic formulas?

Harry gave Kurt a look, bringing his bag up and removing a bottle of Firewhiskey. He had enchanted the labels so they read as normal Famous Grouse Whiskey bottles and not as Ogden's Finest. Kurt watched in interest as Harry quickly opened the bottle and took a swig, cringing and grimacing at the burning in his throat. "Want some?" Harry asked, his mouth feeling dry. "I've also got some wine?"

"Still not drinking," Kurt opened his arms pointedly. "This is probably only the second time _anyone_ here has gotten drunk - okay, maybe not Puck nor Santana - and there will be _agony_ from the backlash of this." With that said, he bounded over to Mercedes and Rachel, leaving Harry standing on his own.

He grimaced, taking another long swig of the booze. He had stood alone for all of a minute when Santana swooped in on him, pushing a leering Puck at him. "Kiss, kiss!" the girl shrieked, clapping her hands together. "I can have a gay wizard and my straight-but-gay shark can be gay too forever, to make big pretty gaybies!" Santana explained to an enthused Brittany, the blonde girl nodding knowledgeably. The girl wound her fingers in Puck's mohawk and Harry's escaping-from-restraint hair, pressing them closer and closer.

"I am _so_ not drunk enough for this!" Harry groaned, winding out of her grip easily and easily finding a plastic red cup. "Why don't we play I Never?" he suggested to a visibly saddened Santana, the dark-haired girl lighting up immediately.

"_Let's play I never!_" she squealed, rounding everyone up in a circle; the wizard twitched his fingers and made it so that the truth would always out. Parties were always fun when he did that.

Harry had been forced down between Santana and Kurt, the taller boy giving him a look of terror. Matt and Mike appeared from wherever Puck spawned from, both carrying a tray of shots each. Finn soon followed, smiling docilely with a blush on his face, sitting in the circle. "Okay, okay, um... I never, ever, _ever_ have slept with four different people," Santana cooed. "Ever ever."

Puck and Brittany both took a shot, downing it. "Okay, okay, me next," Puck beamed. "I've never slept with a dude." Puck looked incredibly smug.

Harry rolled his eyes and took a shot, along with Santana and Brittany. "They don't have to be filthy," Brittany said, sounding incredibly smart. "But I've never fucked someone on a hospital bed."

Harry took another shot, Puck barking out a laugh. "My turn," Harry groaned. "Erm... I never had sex before I was thirteen?"

Puck and Matt both took a shot. Kurt piped up, "I've never had my first kiss." With that one, Kurt was the only person to not take a shot - Harry thought that if he went by his earlier statement, he wouldn't do a shot anyway.

"That's disgusting." Santana spat, whimpering a moment later. "I'm so, so sorry, Hummel. You're doomed to have twenty cats and _live alone!_"

Kurt immediately bristled but didn't spit a remark back.

Puck sighed. "I've never used a glory hole, guys. Ever ever. I know! I'm a pussy." Nobody drank to that one, to Harry's immense disappointment. That would have been excellent blackmail material.

"I've never had dirty thoughts about another dude," Finn contributed, leaning in. "Like, ever. No."

Kurt, Harry, Puck and, amusingly, Artie all downed a shot, although Artie struggled. He grappled forward until someone actually handed him the shot, which said a lot about Artie's ability to hold his drink _and_ the strong spell Harry put up.

Kurt grinned maliciously, giving Harry a slight nudge. "I've never gotten a sexual fantasy from a male's green and silver fingernails."

Puck stiffened, his eyes widening in horror: Santana let out a loud cackle and roared, "Maybe there's hope for you yet, Hummel!"

Puck took a shot, hiding his head in his arm. The Glee club looked at Harry's nails and back at Puck, some painfully amused like Mercedes and Tina, others looking slightly constipated... Or was that Finn's permanent expression?

"This is dull." Harry sighed, downing several more shots in quick succession and ending the spell. "Let's play Truth or Dare. Or Twister! _Or Naked Twister!_"

"_Truth or Dare_!" Santana echoed, taking several of the shots herself. Brittany and Puck joined in, finishing the shots quickly.

"You better not puke anywhere, Potter." Kurt growled, yanking the boy back. "When I asked for you to stay mine, I didn't mean for you to get drunk out of your head!"

"I'm not," Harry replied, relatively sober. The only inkling of his _not_ being sober was his eyes; they were slightly glazed. Only very slightly, but it was there. "I won't puke anywhere, Kurtiekins."

Kurt smiled, reassured, taking Harry's hand in his own. "Good. I bought clothing just in case, but..."

Santana had shoved the trays out of the way, the glasses dotted around them, and placed an empty Vodka bottle in the middle. Harry, again, twitched his free hand and placed a compulsion on the group to tell the truth, unless they were very unwilling. He also added another mild compulsion for dares._  
_

"Me, me, me..." Santana chanted, twisting the bottle. The opening landed on Mercedes. "Aretha! Truth or dare?"

"Truth," Mercedes replied, stiffening her chin.

"Do you... or do you not... Have a crush on Matt?" Santana beamed victoriously.

"Do not." Mercedes growled out, the compulsion spell not detecting a fault. "My turn." Mercedes span the bottle and it landed on Tina. "Truth or dare, Tina?"

"Dare!" Tina nodded her head.

"Kiss Artie." Mercedes sighed. Tina shot up eagerly, peppering him with open mouthed kisses. "And stop!" Tina sat down, grinning widely.

Tina span the bottle, landing on Brittany. "Truth or dare?"

Brittany looked between Kurt and Harry's linked hands and thought about Puck's nail dilemma. _Well_, she mused. _If my gay dolphin hasn't had his first kiss, and my gay wizard has the hots for my gay dolphin and sex-shark... Why not put them all together?_ Her blue eyes lit up in determination. She would try and make sure her bottle spin landed on one of the three boys. "Truth." Brittany said firmly.

"What's your relationship with Santana?" Tina asked curiously, shying away from Santana's suddenly blistering glare.

"We share lady kisses and we're best friends." Brittany nodded to reaffirm her point and span the bottle; it sluggishly landed on Kurt. _My gay dolphin has the hots for my gay wizard, but I think my sex-shark would be too much for my gay dolphin so I'll stick with my gay wizard. _"Truth or dare, Kurt?"

"Um..." Harry looked up at him with big, gooey eyes, a teasing glint dancing behind the innocence. "Dare," Kurt sighed, giving Harry a fond smile.

"Kiss Harry." Brittany said, "I want to see you get your man kisses on." _My sex-shark is upset,_ Brittany gave Puck a smile. _Don't worry, my lovely gaybies._

Kurt stared at Harry in no small amount of horror. Harry's eyes lost their drunken gleam and he sat up, cocking his head to the side. _Do you want to?_ He asked silently, trying not to undermine Kurt but aware of his compulsion spell. Kurt gave him the smallest of nods, his grip becoming tighter on Harry's hand.

Harry shook his hand free and knelt up, placing a hand on Kurt's jaw, another on the back of his neck; and he leant forward, tilting his head slightly, and pressed their lips together. To Harry, it was incredibly soft and incredibly sweet; his magic, however, roared in satisfaction and it coursed through his body, making his nerves sing. To Kurt, it tasted of the alcohol on Harry's lips, and the soft pressure of slightly dry lips on his own. Harry's hands, however, felt like burning electric through his body, and he was immensely pleased his first kiss was with Harry and not someone like Puck or Finn, and there was a curious rush of energy through his body, making him feel mischievous and daring.

He pressed against Harry and dominated the kiss, nipping the smaller boy's bottom lip before flicking his tongue on his bite. Harry ran a hand through Kurt's hair, pushing it loose from the quiff while opening his mouth simultaneously, allowing Kurt entrance. Kurt became hesitant at this point, allowing Harry to coax him through it; and their battle for dominance began again. As the more experienced kisser, Harry won.

"That's hot." Brittany and Santana both held each other, watching the kiss. "I hope they both remember this," Brittany whispered, groaning when they pulled apart. "Oh, come on!"

Kurt gave Harry a shy smile, returning to the game and twisting the bottle. It landed on Rachel, the brunette fanning herself and smiling warmly at the pair. "Dare."

Kurt gnawed on his lower lip, making his mind up. "Kiss Finn."

Rachel's smile dropped slightly, and the girl looked at Kurt in shock. Kurt, the boy hopelessly in love with Finn Hudson, had just dared _her_ to kiss his love. _What's changed_? She wondered blearily, looking between Harry and Kurt before shrugging; she clambered over to Finn and kissed him chastely, pulling back and returning to her place in the circle._  
_

They played and played until Santana got bored and Harry got mischievous; "How about we play _Suck and Blow_ instead? Does anyone have any playing cards?" Santana eyed him blankly before removing a deck from between her breasts. Harry blinked but shrugged, taking the warm packet. "Okay, sit by people you wouldn't mind kissing. You have to put a card in your mouth and suck it in without using your hands, and then you pass it on to the person next to you using your mouth. You have to blow it into their mouth and if you drop the card, you both have to kiss for three minutes. Simple."

The Glee club quickly arranged themselves so that they were pretty much boy-girl, except in the cases of Brittany, Santana, Harry and Kurt. Brittany was sat next to Kurt, who was pressed against Harry, who was leaning against Puck, who lounged next to Rachel. Harry took another sip from his bottle. "Hey, can I have some of that?" Puck asked, taking the bottle from Harry's hands. "Thanks!"

"Be careful!" Harry burst into laughter when Puck took a deep gulp of the liquid and spat it out immediately.

"Oh my God, I'm burning, I'm burning!" Puck yelled, gagging and spitting into an empty shot glass. "What the _hell_ is that?"

"Whiskey," Harry said, amused. "But Draco likes to make it hotter, makes it fun." Harry snickered when the mohawked boy groaned and he went into his bag, removing the elf-made wine. The bottle was carefully blank and tinted, the crimson drink just _calling_. "Try this. It's red wine."

Puck grumbled and unscrewed the cap, taking a much-more hesitant sip. "Oh, that's good," he breathed, pouring some into a plastic cup. "Satan! Try this!" Puck handed Santana both of the bottles. "Be careful with the whiskey - Harry's friend has spiked it. Seems like it's your taste, though, but it's a bit pussyish for me. I'm a badass and that weak stuff ain't got nothing on this wine."

"Draco's whiskey mix in the best thing ever!" Harry gasped, aghast. "How can you say it's a pussy drink? I bet you couldn't get through half a bottle!" Santana let out a loud shout and poured the two drinks in one cup, shouting more things in Spanish when she handed the bottles back. Harry poured some into other cups, giving them to the rest of the Glee club.

The card had been going around without a hitch, nobody managing to drop it from their mouths. Santana was too giggly when she was giving it to Brittany, managing to spill her Firewhiskey-wine combination on Brittany's top. Brittany turned to Kurt and pressed the tip of the card against his lips; Kurt giggled, pressing himself further into Harry's body, and sucked back on the card. He turned to Harry and the card passed between them... Only for Brittany to kick Kurt's back and the card fluttered to the floor.

"Man kisses, man kisses!" the blonde girl chanted, Santana joining in after giving a cruel smirk to Puck and mouthing, '_t__ry harder_'.

Kurt wasted no time in kissing the darker haired boy, pulling him close. Harry smiled slightly, deepening the kiss and letting his eyes slide shut. Kurt grabbed Harry by his jacket and pulled the smaller boy on his lap, Harry shifting to make himself comfortable and to grind down _ever so slightly_. Kurt let out the tiniest of moans, Harry nipping his lower lip and sucking on that part. Kurt opened one eye and grinned, kissing one last time before pulling back. Harry whined at the loss. "That was _not_ three minutes." The dark haired boy shifted from Kurt's lap and sighed, crossing his arms.

Puck was so glad his jeans weren't tight in the crotch area, because his spontaneous boner would be _so __hard_ to explain away - was that a pun? Oh God, Puck made a pun. In his own head! That wasn't badass at all! _But_, he mused, _was it badass popping a stiffy over two guys kissing?_ He eyed the two thoughtfully, Harry's legs wrapped around Hummel's waist and his ass _just_ hovering over Hummel's dick, and he shifted again, averting his eyes. Not badass at all - shit, was he _gay_? Like, gay, gay? With a baby on the way? _He just rhymed!_ He never rhymes! _Hummel just moaned!_ Puck shifted again, drinking the _awesome_ wine Harry brought. Puck wasn't a wine drinker, unless he wanted to get emotional like Satan or horny as _fuck_ but there was something about the wine that was just so different, you know? The whiskey was awful, but the _wine_. The **wine**. Like manna, sweet, sweet manna. _And the cross-dressing midget just whined. __**Whined**_! **And he still had his boner**! What did he do? What did he do?!

Harry put a new card in between his kiss swollen lips and wiggled his eyebrows at Puck. The mohawked teen finished his cup of wine and flicked the card out of his mouth, grabbing the boy's neck and yanking him forward. Harry let out small wail of surprise, arms flailing. "'Uck-r-man!" Harry squeaked against Puck's mouth, trying to pull his head away. "'Top!"

Kurt bristled, digging his nails into Puck's wrist and ripping his hand away. "Puckerman!" His voice was sharp. "He said stop. Well, top, but I'm sure he meant stop. Or top. Either play the game seriously, or I'm taking Harry to my house so you can bang Santana." Harry stared up at him in awe and amusement, while Puck spluttered. Santana was, thankfully, whimpering to Brittany about something; the rest of the Glee club just _stared._ It was either the fact that Kurt was telling his bully off for kissing the new kid, or the fact he used the term 'bang', or that it was _Kurt_ shouting at his former bully that was making them shocked. "Don't give me that! You've just kissed a guy. Do you know what that means, Puck? You're going to be the bottom of the food chain, _just like me._ You're going to get slushied for being a _fag_ - " Puck tried to insist that he was _not_ gay and it was just, like, Harry or something, but Kurt plundered on. "And think about your big gay crisis you're inevitably going to have; you've got a baby on the way whose mother can't decide between having you or your best friend, who _still_ hates you, and you'll have nowhere to turn. And, just so you know, I have more chance fucking Harry because _I like cock._"

"You're hot when you're angry," Harry whispered into his ear, leaning up. "_I like the way you swear_." To Harry, it sounded like perfect English, but to Kurt it was one long, low hiss.

By the end of the night, Kurt was trying to hold Harry up; however, Harry kept trying to cuddle him instead of getting into his car. "_Kuuuuuurt!_" Harry whined, pouting. "Just one hug and then we can go, please, pl_ea_se!"

Kurt grumbled and picked him up, Harry squealing down his ear but wrapping his arms around his neck. "Victory," Harry whispered in Kurt's ear, the taller boy shuddering and nearly throwing him into the Navigator. "You're being a meanie, Kurtsie," Harry cried.

"You're like a clingy child," Kurt replied, getting in the front seat and starting the engine. "Are you sure you're a 'sexual, aggressive drunk'?"

"I didn't want to upset you," Harry replied softly, strapping himself in. "I already took your first kiss and I was kinda' drunk then, so I don't want to like, hurt you or upset you or lead you on or something because you're my new best friend. I think trying to ride you would take it too far, huh?"

"That's sweet," Kurt said drily, rolling his eyes and pulling away from the curb. "However, I didn't say no to you taking my first kiss," Blue eyes met widened green through the rear view mirror. "You haven't upset me, you haven't hurt me, and I don't _think_ you've led me on. Yes, it would be. Don't talk like that around my dad, okay?"

"Okay," Harry chirped, kicking his legs out. "Your dad is cool. I wish I had a dad. I have Sirius, though, and he's good. He keeps calling me James, though, and asking where Remus is, and he keeps asking why Harry's hair is a different colour. I don't have the heart to tell him that he's mentally regressed to the past and I'm Harry and Remus is dead and that Teddy is Remus' son. Teddy's my Godson! He's living with his grandmother at the moment, but once he turns one he gets to come stay with me and Draco's mum, Narcissa, is coming too. Maybe Sevvie will come, too?"

Kurt listened to Harry's rambles, feeling horrified. So that's what Harry meant when he said his other godfather was "insane". "Your dad's name was... James, then?"

"Yeah. James Potter. My mum's name was Lily Evans. What was your mum's name?"

"Elizabeth," Kurt said shyly, pulling up at his house in no time. "My dad's called Burt. Erm... Yeah. Do you mind borrowing my pyjamas?"

Harry unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car, opening Kurt's door for him with a flourish. "Of course not!"

Kurt grinned, blushing slightly, and slid out. "Who said chivalry was dead?" He grabbed his bag, locking his car as he strode up to his house. His father's bedroom light was on, but the rest of the house was dark; he unlocked the door and kicked off his shoes, pulling Harry in and gesturing him to do the same. The snow had gotten thicker and fallen faster until it swirled in a flurry on the streets, Harry's car covered in a thick layer of snow. Kurt silently thanked his dad for getting him a car that rivalled a tank because the roads were untouched, Kurt's wheels laden with snow but the wheels unlikely to spin. "Do you want anything to eat, drink?" He locked his front door and took Harry's hand, leading him into the kitchen and flicking the light switch. "Hot milk?"

"Yes please! Could I have some sugar in it, too?" Harry asked quietly, looking around the kitchen. It was filled with Muggle appliances, unlike Harry's kitchen which was filled with magical cookbooks, a Muggle fridge that tried to bite everyone from the influx of magic, a sink with enchanted scourers and cupboards filled with things that refilled themselves.

"Harry... Did you live alone?" Kurt worried he was being too blunt, too forward, but _Harry_ had gone to get Draco. There was no mention of an adult - and Kurt wouldn't be reassured if 'Sirius' was the adult that lived with them, because he was _clinically insane._ "Before your friend came?" He held out the cup of milk and sugar.

"Yeah," Harry beamed, accepting the warm mug. "You picked up on that, huh?" Harry chuckled, taking a sip of the drink. "Please don't tell anyone. Just give Teddy three months to hit one, and then we'll have adults living with us."

"_Three months?!_" Kurt exclaimed. "You can't do that, Harry. That's against the law. You're sixteen!"

"Nobody wants us, Kurt," Harry said bitterly. "I'll ask Severus, okay? Ask him to move in with us. Better?"

"What do you mean, nobody wants you?" Kurt pried, leading them down into his basement. It was cold in there, his window nearly buried in snow, but his dad had been brilliant enough to leave him several blankets, a duvet and tonnes of pillows. Kurt couldn't remember owning them, honestly, but his girls normally brought their own sleeping stuff when he stayed at Mercedes' with Tina, so who was he to know what they had?

"Nothing. I'm being dramatic. Actually, nobody wanted to leave their homes to come to America; but Draco's dad is in prison," Kurt whirled around, nearly dropping his cup of warm milk, "Don't say _anything_ about that, okay; his dad got caught up in the terrorism. Don't look at Draco like he's any different, either - he opposed his father in the trial. His mum is an up-and-coming designer and she can't be uprooted. Sirius... Well, that's ones obvious," Harry laughed uncomfortably, scratching the back of his neck. "There was nobody to come with me, so I just went, you know?"

Kurt nodded his head, but he was dubious. How did Harry have the money to fly out alone? Why would you let a teenage boy live alone for so long? His eyes narrowed. "You didn't tell an adult, did you?"

Harry blushed and opted not to reply, looking pointedly at Kurt's bag, still bulging with clothing. Kurt shook his head and muttered, "_Boys_," under his breath, handing Harry the bag. "I'll get changed in the closet."

Kurt hurried into his closet, hearing Harry's amused snort and grinning stupidly to himself. He found navy blue, white polka-dotted pyjamas, there only for decoration - he was a man of home-comforts - and changed as quickly as possible, trying to curb the splotchy blush on his face at the thought of another man - well, boy - on the other side of his doors, changing. Peeking through the slit of his slightly open doors made him blush harder; Harry was sluggish from being inebriated and he was wearing only boxers and socks. Wide blue eyes ran over well-defined muscles and he blushed so much brighter, turning his head away and burrowing his face in his hands. He was such a pervert!

"I saw you," Kurt shrieked, momentarily thankful for being in his closet, and gazed up at the smaller boy guiltily. Harry gave him an appraising look, nothing like Kurt was expecting, and a shy smile bloomed on thin lips. "My hands are shaky and I can't pull the shirt over my head. Please could you..." Harry shuffled, the smile dropping, much like his head to his chest. "Alcohol disagrees with me when I get cold."

Kurt tried not to let his eyes linger, or look up and down, and he nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He got out of his closet as elegantly as possible, picking the shirt up. "Ah," He licked his lips. "Arms up."

Harry lifted them up, blushing furiously. Kurt noted that Harry's entire body was trembling, covered in raised pricks of goosebumps. He rolled his shoulders and gently pulled the shirt down, wrestling Harry's arms through and letting the shirt drop. "Will you be able to put the pants on?" Kurt asked kindly, already pushing the shaking boy down on his bed and wriggling his legs into the trousers. Kurt looked away once he reached the hem of Harry's boxers and pulled the boy up, his one free hand automatically steadying the smaller boy. Harry let out a noise, much like a squeak or maybe a meow _(Kurt snickered inwardly at the mental image)_ and pulled Kurt's too-large trousers up. "There. Done. But so help me, if you puke, I will kill you."

And just like that, the awkwardness that _permeated_ the air was through, and the two boys dissolved into chuckles and soft apologies. "I really didn't think the sleepover idea through," Kurt admitted, flopping down on his bed and rubbing his arms on the duvet. "What about underwear? Brushing your teeth? I refuse to let you go home in the same clothes you wore tonight!"

Harry laughed softly, turning on his side to stare up at Kurt through thick dark eyelashes. He shrugged one shoulder. "I am really sorry about your first kiss." Harry murmured, his eyes sharp and gleaming. It seemed like the cold had snapped him out of his alcohol addled state and let him crash down. "Drunk and a dare, no less."

Kurt swallowed, trying to not let his uncertainty show. He felt like he'd betrayed himself; his first kiss was supposed to be romantic with his first love, and it would be perfect and red rose petals and lit with sweet-smelling candles... And instead, it had gone to a boy he'd known for all of a week, drunken and messy and nothing like he'd wanted.

But it was okay, because things didn't really pan out the way you expect them to, right? He rolled over and pulled the smaller boy into a hug. "It's okay. First kisses aren't important, are they?"

He felt Harry's mouth turn downwards into a frown on his neck, and the soft bristles of Harry's hair as he shook his head. "First kisses are incredibly important, Kurt." That same random rush of energy came back, only it was sluggish and... sad. If Kurt wasn't a firm believer of science, of denouncing religion in his head although keeping his lips pressed firmly closed, he might've thought it was a divine intervention or a sign. "Your very first kiss..."

Harry trailed off, his magic almost purring from his close proximity with the countertenor. It was happy, coursing through his body and entering Kurt's. He wanted to pull away from the strange sensation, but it was calming, soothing. His magic was typically angry and raging, eager to be used but wanting to destroy, to hunt... Now it only felt warm, like a warm burn from a fire on a cold night.

* * *

_This fanfiction will be magic centric, with the addition of Glee. Obviously, things are different. They'll be explained in due course; but I'll give you the basic run down.  
_

_Harry has repressed his memories of the war because his magic is out of control: he reacts to his memories and more than once **(this will be explained later, but I don't want to rush my lovely readers and leave them confused)** he has attacked someone unknowingly. Hence, the 'mates and grounding mates' thought. He doesn't know that he needs these "mates", but he does. This will be a **threesome** fanfiction, and no doubt that will be frustrating for me to right because both Puck and Kurt represent normality and are the epitome of teenage-hood. Harry is some fucked up kid who took out a Dark Lord. Yeah.  
_

_Draco is... Well, he's the same cocky boy we know and love, but things are so different that I can't really sort out my thought processes now. Think of him as a gun; you don't always need a gun, but you keep it close by just in case. Now, unfortunately, this gun has been used a lot and comes with it's own cracks and weaknesses and blemishes, but every gun needs someone to make it work. Right now, that person is Harry. Later on, it will be... someone who isn't Harry._


End file.
